Paper Lilies
by Formidable Rain
Summary: The Rockbell Manor was a grand one. The foyer was spacious and splendid, with grand, curving staircases. Edward, an unwilling servant, has given up fighting. Will the Rockbell's daughter rekindle his spark and return his spirit? EdxWin AU
1. Captivus

The sea of masks, an ocean of glittering teeth and jewels. So many colors; red as blood, blue as the midmorning sky, deep forest green; all shrouded in shadow. The light was so bright, so vivid, so hot. It beamed down directly on his bare skin, searing it until he thought he may go up in flames. His shoulders already screamed in pain, his arms bound at the wrists behind his back, pulling the muscles in a position hardly natural and highly uncomfortable. His legs felt like heavy dead things beneath him, he hadn't been allowed to stand in hours.

He was a golden canary in a gilded bird cage. A light shot down from somewhere above, illuminating only a small circle of his immediate area. He bit at the gag that had been shoved between his teeth maybe an hour ago. His skin was covered with a random scattering of bruises and blood leaked and crusted in a few choice spots. The young man turned his head as something was caught in his peripheral vision, a flitting of an image, unidentifiable at the given time. As his eyes adjusted to the world beyond his bubble of harsh light, a booming voice called out loudly:

"And what of this fine one: a boy of fifteen years, rugged, a bit short, but a lovely face, no?"

Edward looked back to the sea of masks as mutters broke from their smiling mouths and crashed against his eardrums like a wave, all nonsensical voices melding together in some senseless jamble that had no true meaning or purpose. His mind was as numb as his legs, unable to compute even the negligible of emotion or meaning. His situation was almost unnoticed, his poor, exhausted mind incapable of distinguishing what any of this meant.

The booming voice continued, no apparent pity for the boy in its entire being, only cruelty with an undertone of avarice. "Yes, a fine one indeed! No parents to worry about, none at all. A good muscular build, he'll be a strong one! But, I must say, I'd rather have him work the front door than the fields with a face like that."

The wash of voices was louder this time, punctuated by shouts... Shouts of numbers... Bids...

"Brother!"

That single cry jerked Edward from his numbness, all the pain and emotion rushing back in one fell swoop. It all dawned on him in a single millisecond, his entire situation finally clear to him. It nearly crippled him; the pain, shock, and pure panic. He searched for the voice wildly, surely it had truly been there, it couldn't have been his imagination.

"Brother! Brother!"

Edward swung his face to the left, and his heart stopped. There, on the stage with him, lying only a few feet away in his own cage, was his little brother.

"Alphonse!" His cry was muffled and distorted into unintelligible grunts by the gag. It hardly sounded like the English language.

At the sight of his younger brother, Edward threw himself at the bars of his cage, rattling the gilded bars. The sound was harsh and jarring, and it hurt his eardrums. He jerked and strained at the manacles circling his wrists, cold, sharp metal pressing cruelly into his skin. His legs, still without feeling, buckled at his every attempt to stand. Again and again he smacked into the floor, but again and again he struggled and cried out for his brother.

A loud shout broke through the panic in Edward's mind. For a moment he was numb again, but then shapes moved toward his brother's cage; dark, sinister shadows that threatened his brother's safety. Edward shouted himself hoarse through the gag, trying in vain to scare the attackers away. Panic and horror were the only things he could feel, and those two emotions pounded through him relentlessly.

"How'd he get the gag off?"

"Just shut 'im up already, this is starting to look bad..."

The voices murmured at the sudden hush of shock. That sea of masks looked on at the performance onstage with awe and amusement. Such a show! What brotherly devotion! The strength of such a bond! How absolutely moving! They tittered behind their fans, masked eyes crinkled in delight. It was exactly the kind of thing they adored tearing apart, just the thing they found elation in destroying. The anguish of others! How amusing!

Edward watched with growing horror as his brother's cage was opened and the boy was ripped from the container by rough fingers yanking by the boy's short hair. Alphonse cried out but was swiftly slapped across the cheek by that unrelenting hand.

Edward was screaming and thrashing, blood from his wrists made his hands slippery and he found less purchase than he could have managed before. All he could think was that he needed to get to Alphonse, needed to save Alphonse, needed desperately to get Alphonse as far away from this place as possible. Then someone suddenly shook his cage violently, shocking him into stillness. Looking up at the offending hand, he followed the black-gloved fingers up the tailored sleeve to the person's face. The wideness of the fine bone structures were strange and distinct, as well as the hooked nose and small, beady black eyes. The man smiled, showing unnaturally sharp teeth.

"As you can see, his mannerisms leave a bit to be desired! But still a worthy piece." This was the owner of the booming voice.

The bids that came were not nearly as enthusiastic as the previous. After all, who wanted to go through the trouble of training civility into a slave? Such a bother. Quite troublesome should he be a stubborn one. The final bid was a measly nine hundred pounds.

Edward wondered idly if that was really only how much his life was worth. Surely his humanity should cost more? His individuality? But he really hadn't had much to begin with. Perhaps it made sense that his life should be worth so little. He was such a small, infinitesimal thing after all. In the grand scheme of things, he was an ant. Nothing more than a tiny drone that did nothing but serve its purpose as a drone. In the grander scheme of things, he suspected, he wasn't even worth that much.

He listened to the exchange of finalizing words deafly, no longer affected by the events of this world. Everything that was said or done to him slipped off him like water on glass. Until he looked back at his brother, a bruise on his pale cheek, his golden brown eyes streaming helpless tears.

Now that all his horror and panic was gone, Edward felt himself filled with an incredible sorrow at the sight of those tears.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay...that was kinda short... Your opinion matters immensely! I haven't written anything in a while... I'm a bit rusty... Criticisms welcome... But be gentle with me! Q_Q<p>

So, this is gonna be an odd one, if I do say so myself. It's taking place in London during the 18th century, which isn't really obvious with the first chapter. I took a lot of inspiration for this scene from Black Butler. [Guilty as charged! T^T] This is an EdxWinry fic! [don't kill me!] So this chapter was all Ed! Next one is all Winry! Let's see how this train wreck turns out, ne?

Disclaimer [little late]: I don't own Ed. Q^Q Sadly. He's Hiromu Arakawa's.


	2. Mortalis

_~One Year Later~_

The Rockbell Manor was a grand one. The foyer was spacious and splendid, with grand, curving staircases. A seven foot tall suit of armor greeted anyone who entered. A threatening figure of steel, but for the single horn-resembling spike protruding comically from the helmet's forehead. The décor was a lovely midnight blue and silver, and the lavish carpets looked as if they had never been trod on in their existence. The walls were a nice white to accent the blue, and the doors all seemed to be of a thick, heavy wood that could withstand an indoor tornado.

The Rockbell family was one of 'new money', so they say. Mister Urey Rockbell was a well-known doctor and surgeon, and a brilliant intellectual of their time. He was responsible for the refinement of penicillin, a drug derived from the _penicillium_ fungi. The success of the antibiotic brought him a fortune in money and reputation.

His wife, Sara Rockbell, was also one of medicine. She was not a certified doctor, but her inner strength and compassion for others made her a woman to be admired. She was an inspiration to women, as far as that goes in this society. It was not a refined or legitimate party if Mrs. Rockbell wasn't on the guest list.

And then there was the Rockbell's daughter. A lovely girl of sixteen years, witty and charming almost to a fault. Her hair was the color of sunshine and her eyes were a mysterious stormy blue. Winry Rockbell was well mannered, intelligent, and talented. Surely she was the prime of all females in her age group.

If it weren't for her one strange quirk.

Winry skirted down the stairs, her slippered feet a blur as she took them as rapidly as she could. In a flurry of flying cloth she swung around a banister and rushed down the last stretch of stairs. She couldn't fathom why anyone would need so many stairs just to get from point A to point B.

But she wasn't dwelling on the number of stairs at the moment (which she had in fact counted in entirety one particularly boring day), but of the awful black smear marring the front of her white dress. Over and over she had dabbed and wiped and scrubbed at the stain as she rushed to meet her parents. But the offending oil wouldn't retreat! Her lace-trimmed handkerchief was soiled with spots of black oil. Her mother would throw a fit!

She shot past the suit of armor, forever standing at attention, and this time did not giggle at the unicorn-like horn. She was too preoccupied with the black monster that sought to ruin her day. Another rub of the handkerchief made Winry want to burst into tears. All she had done was make it worse! The spot was even larger than it was before.

Her parents were in the card room with a guest, and it was apparently urgent. They had sent the maid upstairs in a hurry to retrieve her. All sorts of bad news passed through her mind. Had they lost their fortune in a gamble? Was one of her relatives dead? Did Den, her treasured puppy, grow ill?

Absently Winry dabbed once more at the oil spot before grasping the door's handle and letting herself in. She politely peeked around the door as her parents and an unidentified man took notice of her intrusion. Stepping in fully and shutting the door behind her, Winry's eyes fell on her mother and her bad feeling escalated tenfold. Sara Rockbell was crying quietly, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth as she looked at her daughter.

Winry was taken aback, but didn't cease holding her own handkerchief over the oil spot, concealing it casually. "Mother?" It was the beginning of a question, one that did not require to be finished. Her mother leapt from her seat and rushed over to Winry before crushing her in a delicate hug.

Winry held still for a moment, then pulled away hesitantly. Her mother's big blue eyes were red a puffy from crying, and bits of wavy blonde curls had escaped from the knot at the back of her head. Alarms were ringing in the young girl's head, questions on her tongue, but she held steady. It was rude to ask, even if it was what you really wanted to do. So instead she observed the strange man whom she'd never before met. He was a pudgy man in a tailcoat with a bowler hat dangling from one hand. He resembled a hog, she decided, with sideburns as wide as the Thames and a wide, wide mouth. His head was surrounded by thinning hair, all shiny and bald on top. Over all, he looked like someone had taken a grouchy old man and stretched him horizontally.

Not finding any help there, she looked beseechingly at her father. Urey Rockbell had stood when his wife had. He looked uncomfortable and...distraught. Her father was upset. Something had surely happened. But he was silent, tormenting poor Winry with the suspense, making her wish she could shout her questions, and demand immediate answers. She watched her father's dark blue eyes close and crinkle once before he finally looked at her. He smoothed his hand over his slicked blonde hair before speaking.

"Winry, dearest, come have a seat." His voice was just the same as always, but with a twinge of sadness in the simple words. The sound of it tightened her heart. It felt as if the floor had dropped away from under her feet, her balance and equilibrium vanquished, and she was free falling through nothingness. Something terrible had happened. Something awful. She braced herself as best as she could, steeling her heart in case it happened to be a fatal blow.

"It's about your uncle, dear."

* * *

><p>AN: Well, that was anticlimactic. LAAME!<p>

Hi again! I had this undying urge to just put the second chapter up NOW, so I did. You may have noticed that I am the author of only one story... That would be this one. It's my only one so far. On this site. With this username. Rather pathetic, ne?

Thank you to the three people who reviewed last chapter (someone double posted OxO), your feedback is greatly apprietiated. I'm not so worried about quantity of reviews with this fic, I'm just looking to put out a good story.

Someone pointed out that this Ed/Winry Servant/Mistress thing is...popular? Needless to say... I'M DEVASTATED! Q_Q I feel so unoriginal! I'm a failure of an author! An uncreative slop! I don't even know what a slop IS! DX /end of emotional tirade/

Anyways, sorry for the boring chapter (I need to get everyone introduced ya know) and I hope the people who subscribed will come back! :D Thanks for reading!

-Rain


	3. Candidus

"The bastard is dead! Why the hell aren't you letting me go!"

"You're in his will, moron. You got new owners now." A laugh punctuated this statement.

Ed couldn't stand them, the lot of them, those slimy, greasy dogs that passed for people. He hated all of them. Each and every one, all that same, not a single person in this world was of any use to him. His fury leapt and blazed like a wildfire as grimy teeth grinned and mocked him.

Sneering in disgust, Edward reared his arm back and punched the passenger in the face. The automobile swerved as the driver swung around to return the punch, smashing the boy in the cheek. The other man cursed and spat as he bent over, his hands pressed to his nose.

"Whah the fock do ya think you're doin, ya stupid bloke!"

Edward couldn't identify which man had spoken as he staggered back into the seat, his hand pressed to his cheek. _That hurts… _he thought wryly. Then the man in the passenger seat got up on his knees and twisted around to glare at him, his nose gushing blood and slightly...askew.

"You broke my nose, you brat!" The man shouted, blood dribbling down his chin.

This earned him a sadistic grin from the golden-haired boy. "I'll break the rest of your face if you don't pull over now!" To prove his point, Ed shot up in his seat to send an uppercut to the man's chin. It sent the man flying backwards, and thrust him against the dashboard with bone-jarring force.

"Jim!" The driver called in panic. One hand shot out and snagged the man, Jim, by his shirt front, tugging him back into place before he fell out of the cab of the roofless, windowless car.

Jim sagged in his seat, but lifted his head to glower at Edward again. "You piece 'a shit! I'll kill you!" With this statement, the man struggled over the seat. Grinning, Ed cracked his knuckles.

"Jeezus, Jimmy!" called the driver. "Jus' put 'im out!"

Jim pounded his fist into his open palm. "I intend to!"

Ed smirked and readied to block a blow from the head, quickly scanning everything and developing a battle plan. He would give the guy a slam to his broken nose, a knee to the gut, predicted a block, then another lower block, and then he would elbow him in the solar plexus, and send him out of the cab, rolling and bleeding on the cobblestoned street.

What he didn't expect was to be snatched by the wrist when he went to jab at the man's nose, then put in a headlock while some chemical-smelling cloth was jammed over his nose and mouth. He strained away from the offense scrap of cotton. He struggled and twisted, but the grip held firm. _Shit. Bloody cowards..._ was his only thought as he was swallowed up by unconsciousness.

A few weeks had passed, and Winry sat in the study alone with only her thoughts and dust moats to accompany her. She was sunk comfortably in a wing backed chair, sideways, with her stocking feet in the air. It was her father's chair, affront the fireplace, made of a dark green material. Her long, straight hair was dangling over the other arm of the chair which her head rested on. In her lap were two books: a large medical textbook concealing a smaller book on mechanics.

One hand was dangling lazily off to the side, a hand that her dog, Den, stared at with interest. Mildly Winry turned the page to examine a new diagram. She identified it as a design by Da Vinci quite quickly, despite her mind being on other things.

They were hauling in all the gains from her uncle's home. It was meager things, from what her parents had told her. She really didn't wish to dwell on it. But she had heard the list all the same. A china set from her grandmother, a bookcase, a trunk, an old wedding dress, a handful of family portraits.

And the oddest one:

A servant.

How strange for that to be on a will. Winry had thought it curious, but hadn't piped up to question it. She did not dwell on that much either. But if she thought on it a bit longer, questioned it a bit further, she would realize what her subconscious had already told her.

Slavery.

Winry was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of hurried feet scurried passed the door of the study. The maids were rushing down the hall, whispering to each other as they did. "They're bringing in the master's brother's items now. The foyer is a fright!" said one voice.

"And the new servant, have you seen him? My goodness, never have I seen a boy more lovely!"

Curious and efficiently distracted, Winry pulled herself into a normal position and rose from her chair, abandoning her books in the chair. Her skirts swirling around her ankles, Winry stepped over Den and made for the door, the dog rolling onto his belly to watch her as she went.

Fury simmered in him, rage was smoldering deep within his chest, evident in the set of his mouth and flames in his eyes. He was never the best at keeping himself composed, but most days he did not endeavor too hard.

After Edward had awoken from his drug-induced sleep, he'd had Hell's equivalent of a headache, and the two stooges who had driven him to the Rockbell Manor had scurried off, cursing him under their breaths. Ed had taken a few swings at the two of them before they managed to get him out of the car first, of course.

Urey Rockbell was the younger brother of Edward's previous master.

The bastard who bought him off that auction so many months ago.

The bastard who just so happened to be dead now.

Staring up at the imposing structure with blank eyes, Edward trailed his gaze up then down. The Rockbell Manor was a grand one. The bricks were painted stark white, dark green ivy working its way methodically up the grainy side. A well-groomed rose garden decorated the lavish drive up to the sturdy porch. There was a wicker chair and matching table off to the side, beneath the porch's overhang. Teams of horses pulled caravans were pulled to the side in front of the manor, and teams of men scurried back and forth from the caravans and inside. It was the kind of unorganized chaos that would allow for escape.

If it weren't for the footman that Ed had been dumped on.

He was reminded of the man's presence again when he shouted, "Sir! Are you listening to me?"

Ed gazed at the mousy older man with contempt. His squinty eyes, wiry mustache, and receding hairline made it difficult for Edward to believe they had him working the front door. Didn't families endeavor to have charming and attractive men as their first impression on guests? This, and the man's high, obnoxiously screeching voice was grating on Ed's ears.

He sniffed in disgust. "No. Run it by me again?"

The man flushed an unattractive purple color, and Ed nearly feared the man would have a stroke. "I _said_ to please follow me, _mister...?"_ said the man testily. "I take it _you_ are the new servant from the master's brother's household?"

Edward stifled the urge to spit. "Yes." He all but snarled. Then he said in a more even tone, "Edward Elric."

The man huffed in irritation. "Very well, Mr. _Elric, _please follow me."

Grinding his teeth, Edward watched the man breeze past him. He had a cocky walk that irked him as well.

A shiver went over him when he realized something abruptly... No one was watching him. The annoying man had his back turned, and all the other of staff was buzzing about, not sparing him a thought. They had no idea. He could run away. Make a break for it and run, run until his legs gave out, run until he was finally free.

But before his feet could twitch or his knee could jerk in the direction of freedom, a thought occurred to him.

Why bother?

He was practically an orphan with no skills outside of serving a person's needs. And even if he did try...

They would drag him right back.

Resignation made his feet weigh a ton as he followed after the footman at a snail's pace. There was no point. It wouldn't do him any good. He was given this life, cursed with it, and now all he could do was suffer through and hope things would somehow get easier. All that fight he'd had earlier had fled him, like a last breath that fled the lungs with the urgency of death. His shoulders sunk and his chin lowered in the walk of a man defeated. He hadn't fought in what felt like forever. It was exhausting.

The foyer was large and cavernous, graceful in all ways. There were no windows, but there were doors a plenty. Edward quickly pinpointed which were doors would likely lead to what room. There was likely a dining room to his right, with grand doors and artwork decorating either side. To his left, more grand doors, maybe a gallery. The billiard and card rooms would branch off the gallery. He decided the doors tucked behind the curving staircases were likely the servant's stairs. The bedchambers would most definitely be upstairs. His eyes lingered on the suit of armor, the steel shining with new polish, and cast his eyes downwards.

"Sir, please allow me to relieve you of that."

"Nonsense, I can manage! I'm not yet a hobbling old man, am I?"

The words glanced off Edward like a bubble surrounded him. That is until someone much taller than him stumbled into him. Reacting mechanically, Edward reached out and caught the parcel the person had been carrying: a lamp, while bracing the person with his own body to prevent their fall.

"Oh, my goodness, thank you boy!" the blonde man gasped in astonishment as he righted himself. When the man turned and checked on Edward before brushing himself off, Ed was taken aback, but held himself poised. The man took the lamp from him and smiled.

"Not a problem, sir." He said with a bow of his head, his arms folded behind his back.

"Master Urey!" shrieked an obnoxious voice. A flurry of movement drew Edward's eyes back to the annoying footman with the squinty eyes. "Sir, what are you doing! Leave the unloading to the servants!" the footman scolded pathetically.

The blonde man, Urey, blinked then smiled at the annoying man. "Ah, Yoki, there you are. Who is this boy?"

Edward made an effort to stand a bit taller, realizing that this man was the Dr. Urey Rockbell, the master of the manor. He supposed he should have realized, what with the man's soft hands and kind eyes. He was the embodiment of everything Edward pictured a renowned doctor to be. _But if he was the brother of that man_, Edward thought, _surely he must be cruel_.

"Edward Elric, your new servant, sir." Edward bent quickly at the waist in a small bow, all the while cursing his luck for running into the master of the house before cleaning up. His collared white shirt was wrinkled and rumpled; he'd been wearing it since yesterday. The knees of his black slacks were dirty from being forced to kneel or having been shoved too roughly, causing him to meet the dirt.

There was a hesitant look in Mr. Rockbell's eyes, a look of confusion and unhappiness. Edward felt uncomfortable under the man's probing stare, believing it was his disheveled appearance that earned him that look. But the doctor was not analyzing his clothes as he expected, but staring intently at his face, and yet not making eye contact. Edward was confused for a moment, before the doctor asked him something that froze him to the spot.

"How did you get this bruise on your face, son?" The concern for him was evident in his voice, startling him. Why would he be so concerned about a complete stranger? _But he's a doctor_, Ed reminded himself. But what to say? He had so many reasons to lie. All he could think was to duck the truth, no matter how frequently it swung back towards him. Just avoid it and lie. Lie, lie, lie!

"I fell." He said lamely. "Sir." He added quickly, his voice faltering embarrassingly.

Urey wanted to argue, Edward could see it in the man's eyes. He opened his mouth, words on his tongue, ready to call him on his lie. Call him a liar, condemn him, throw him out for being the liar he was. _But you want to get out of here_, he reminded himself. But he couldn't recall the yearning for freedom just now, all he could think was that the kind doctor would think him a liar, something he suddenly really, really did not want.

And an angel must have been smiling upon him for once in his life, because a young woman came rushing over to the doctor's side. "Master Rockbell! Miss Winry is out and about again! She told me she was fine in the study, but I just went to check on her and she's left!"

The doctor swiftly looked away from Edward, leaving him to be willing crushed with relief over not being called out. He decided this girl pink-haired girl was his new savior, and he would thank her in his head every time he lied again. Which would still likely be frequently.

The woman was dressed in a simple black dress with a white apron, and some kind of frilly white headband. He noted that she strangely had long brown hair, but the front was a startling pink. Puzzled, he stared at her, pondering what kind of genetics could cause such a strange anomaly. His puzzling went unnoticed.

The doctor expelled a breath. "That girl..." He murmured. Edward glanced at him questioningly. "Yoki, find her please. I can't have her collapsing in the middle of the house." His eyes were crinkled with concern, far more than Edward had seen for him earlier. Worry was creasing the older man's forehead and setting his mouth anxiously.

What was wrong with this Winry girl that made the doctor so concerned? _She must be sick_, Ed decided. But how could one be so sick as to worry such a renowned doctor. Couldn't he just fix her?

Edward was pulled from his thoughts by the doctor kindly wishing him good bye. But before he hurried off, he assigned the maid, Rose, to show him about the house to "get him acquainted with his new home."

Home? Hardly. Prison would be a more apt description.

His golden eyes lingered on the man's retreating back for a moment before returning to the maid. She looked nervous about meeting his eyes, but when she noticed Edward looking at her, she smiled gently. Again Edward was confronted with something he hadn't been graced with for the past few years. He couldn't remember that last time he himself had honestly smiled. It didn't matter to him anyway. Nothing mattered to a slave.

"This way, please." said Rose, turning away from him. She showed him the dining room, describing the jobs he may need to do, whether it be cleaning or butlering, and even described the china schedule. Soon she was sweeping him toward the industrial kitchen filled with steam and all sorts of smells, good and bad. Ed managed to snag a roll before Rose dragged him through a servant's hallway into the laundry room. Washbasins full of water steamed and sloshed with frothing soap as women toiled away at delicate lace and satin. It was here that Rose decided to pause.

"Ms. Dante, what are you doing down here?" There was concern for the old woman in the girl's voice.

Edward looked sideways at her. Wasn't the woman a servant? She was just doing her job. Ed watched the wrinkled old lady attend to a stain on a silk gown; how careless these nobles were. Honestly, if that belonged to him he would care for it as if it were a precious child. Actually, he would sell it, and keep more money than he'd ever been allowed to look at for too long for a rainy day.

The old lady smiled tiredly. "Oh, my dear, I was just going to rest a bit after I was done cleaning Miss Winry's gown. The girl is honestly so clumsy."

Rose looked reproachful, but conceded and left with Edward floundering after her. Next, in rapid succession, the small girl tugged Edward down a hallway with door after door, naming them as they passed, so quickly that Edward feared his head may burst. Drawing room, Master's study, minor study, billiard room, bath chamber, he couldn't remember them all!

Next upstairs. Master Urey's bedchamber, conjoined to Mrs. Rockbell's separate chamber, Miss Winry's bedchamber, and likely half a dozen guest rooms. And closets, endlessly closets! Each with its own specified purpose! Broom closet, mop closet, dry foods closet, linen closets galore! Ed decided that he would tie a string around himself and attach it to a post somewhere, so that he may find his way back should he get himself lost in this labyrinth. Dear lord, this manor must have been fashioned by Daedalus himself!

Finally Rose must have decided that the tour was complete, and that Edward would most assuredly be able to find his way, no matter how deep he wandered in. She parted ways with him on the stairs, telling him that she would ask Master Rockbell exactly what his duties would be.

_Maybe he'll decide he already has enough staff and let me go, _Edward thought hopelessly as he stood atop the staircase with his hand on the banister, looking lost and utterly confused.

That was when a flash of a rustle of baby blue and sunny yellow twinkled on his peripheral vision, his nose caressed by the soft scent of vanilla and roses. Dazed, he turned, and caught sight of her.

She was absolutely lovely, a girl worthy of being compared to a pale rose or calla lily, with her long hair, the exact color of sunshine, falling in pin-straight locks all the way to her hips. Her ruffled dress was the exact color of her eyes, which matched the hue of the sky on a bright day in the country. Her limbs were frail and she was dainty, like a tiny blooming bud on a rose bush, so delicate and lovely, and soft to the touch. It was when Edward started wondering if _she_ was soft to the touch that he snapped out of it.

This was most assuredly the doctor's daughter.

Stiffly, Ed straightened himself and bowed swiftly with his arms ramrod straight. Then he left as quickly as he could, taking two stairs at a time as he rushed down. Golden forelocks that framed the boy's face were cast over his eyes, hiding them in shadow.

Edward decided that this would be most assuredly the most difficult time of his life should he have to serve this family for much longer.

* * *

><p>AN: The computer gods were not smiling upon me. -_- I would have totally gotten this up earlier, but I had soccer practice to coach and homework to do and COMPUTER OVERLORDS that refused to let me write. . Yes, I am filled with excuses. But I'm totally to blame as well. Halfway through my allotted computer time, I started looking up FMA demotivational posters. Entertaining $hit! xD<p>

Anyways... I promise I'm leading up to something that may ACTUALLY be interesting... Maybe... I think I'll go through and DRAFT the ending, so I'll actually end up finishing this one day...

Thank you Joker Oak for your nonstop (so far) reviews, as well as the oh-so-mysterious anonymous "S", who is equally loyal and kind in their reviewing. [Seriously, dude, WHO ARE YOU?] xD Ooh, and thanks StarKiss666 for your awesomely inspiring review! (I know I thanked you already, but why not make it official?)

So yeah! Winry's uncle died, and he just so happened to be Ed's previous...owner? IT'S FATE! Ed's also a bit older in this, so picture him as he looked at the end of Brotherhood. Or whatever. Ooh, and Winry has a mysterious sickness? :o Dramaaa!

Thanks for reading, my dears!

-Rain

Disclaimer (forgot to do this last chapter o.o): I DON'T OWN THESE CHARACTERS! Well, except for Jim and his buddy. Oh, and "bad news delivering man" from last chapter. You know, the one that looks like a hog? Anyways...

BUT if anyone decides to STEAL this and post it as their own... I will hunt them down and [-censored-] and then [-censored-] and I'll [-censored-] and then toss their remains off a cliff! Understood?


	4. Aegrotatio

Two days had passed, and Edward had become accustom to the goings ons in the Rockbell manor. It was a quiet house, which seemed to always require more and more cleaning, and the family was often absent. Ed had officially been given the oh-so-pleasant job of _butler._ Normally, this would mean he stood there while others served meals, answered the door, and entertained guests when the family was too busy. But he was also the unofficial kitchen boy, carriage driver, and personal escort. This meant that he, more often than not, did not end up being the one to answer the door.

The doctor along with his wife were away at the local hospital center, tending to patients likely. The daughter was not feeling well and had elected to cancel her appointments today. She was apparently bedridden.

A constant, unending sound of _shick, shick, shick, _was filling his ears; a sound that originated from his toiling over the sink, scrubbing a pot with a brush. Edward was elbow deep in soapy, foamy bubbles as he scrubbed vigorously. Next he had to run errands for the chef, the grouchiest of the staff, to pick up groceries. He straightened his new black tailcoat, brushed off his vest, and yanked the cuffs on his sleeves so they looked crisp. The fabric was rich and dull at the same time, boring yet extravagant, and by far the most refined thing he had ever worn in his life.

He felt ridiculous.

He recalled receiving the uniform from Yoki, the squinty-eyed man sneering at him habitually, telling him that he better keep his hair pulled back or someone may find some of his "slimy, disgusting ratty hair in their food". Edward had twitched a little before suppressing the old urge he thought he had outgrown to kill him and accepted the clothes.

Now Edward opened the front door with the intention of getting a carriage to take into town, but finally that dull roar he had heard all morning made sense.

It was pouring rain.

Edward stared blankly at the offensive rain. If he had been in any sort of good mood (which hadn't existed for him for years now), it would have been trod on, kicked in the teeth, and ultimately ruined by this awful rain. But now it only ruined his clothes.

The water was freezing, a foreboding reminder that winter was just around the corner. It chilled Edward to the bone, despite his cloak that did little to warm him, even with the hood drawn up. He stomped through the mud to the stables, his mood foul and expression dark and bordering on angry. The stable boy, a young Indian boy by the name of Rick, looked up in startlement at Edward's unannounced entry. The mare Rick had been grooming nickered and snorted in protest as he dropped the brush on her hoof.

"I need to get into town." Edward said in a deadpan voice.

He watched the boy's blue eyes drift over his head, staring at the thundering rain. "Now?" the boy squeaked.

"Now."

There must have been something in Edward's voice that refused further argument, because Rick sprung into action. After what felt like mere seconds, Edward was clicking the reins and heading down the drive in the frigid rain.

* * *

><p>The girl of our story was seated in a bay window with a blanket cocooning her, as if the thin cotton could repel all her frets. Her forehead rested against the cold glass, her eyes glazed with boredom as she watched the rain. Her head was throbbing with pain, pounding against her temples to such an extent she feared she would collapse or go insane from the pain.<p>

If she hadn't become accustom to such agony so long ago.

Winry fidgeted with the blanket. It had ridden up and had left her toes bare to the chilled air. She disliked these days. The days when she felt like this. But even more she loathed the ones where the weather was nice. It was just a harsh reminder that she was not permitted by higher beings to enjoy life, and she felt its sting like a slap to the face. It was all she could do to not break and cry from the pain every day. Despite all her efforts, she felt a warm wetness slide down her cheek. Brushing the tear away irritably, she thought of rain.

The rain pounded against the earth beneath it obstinately as if it wished to drown it into nonexistence. To bury it beneath its water, snuff out all the life there and claim the earth as its own. As if water could own the world. Each individual raindrop was nothing, just an infinitesimal speck that would become one with a whole. Its life, as if it had one, was painfully brief. Much like her own, only sped up one hundred times. The rain that pelted from the heavens had no color, not a hue to it at all. It appeared to be nothing but a sheet of grey. Staring out the window was like staring out into a monochromatic world. _What a dreary thought_. But it really was dreary. Lightning flickered across the sky, dazzling Winry's eyes as it jerked and sliced through the relentless grey. _Like a rebellious child,_ Winry thought bemusedly. Trying to shine with such a brief tantrum; it really wasn't worth the energy to begin with.

As the thunder rumbled something drew Winry's eyes magnetically, away from the clouds and their onslaught of stubborn rain. It was the carriage, curiously making its way down the drive. She tilted her head, a section of her blond hair falling over her shoulder. Her mother and father were out, were they not? She was sure her mother had kissed her goodbye this morning. Was a servant running errands? In this weather?

Unhappy about this, she hoped it wasn't young Leo or crippled Paninya going out. Fretting, Winry cast her blanket aside and made to stand, only to wobble on her weak legs like a newborn colt. Cursing in her head, she sought out stockings and slippers, scrambling over the floor in search of the elusive things. But before she quit the room, her snatched up the boots she kept hidden in the bottom of her armoire. They were old and worn, scuffed and usually dirty. Thick soled, leather, industrial brown, and so broken in they were practically a size too big. They were her favorites.

Dangling the shoes from two fingers, she artfully covered them by draping her cloak over her arm. With soft steps she slipped down the stairs, her hand gripping the banister for much needed support. Her slippered feet ghosted down the hallways with barely a whisper, her dark green bed gown dancing about her ankles. It was much more drab than her usual gowns, boring and dull, but she didn't care if anyone saw her in her state of near-undress. As she reached a back door that the servants used, she swept a wary glance left and right, then dropped the boots to the floor with a clunk. She stepped into them, slippers and all, and cinched them tight as quickly as she could. Then she threw her dark black cloak over her shoulders haphazardly, tying the ribbon in something that mildly resembled a bow.

Her hand closed around the knob, victorious adrenaline pounding through her veins, and she threw it open and stomped over the threshold into the pouring cold rain. Grinning from ear to ear over her victory, she closed the door quietly and slowly. Just before the door closed, through the crack she saw a figure emerge from a doorway and turn their face toward the door. But she shut it quickly before they could get a good look at her.

Good thing too, considering it was probably Rose, her personal hand-slapping maid.

The rain pelted her cloak and she shivered as the cold slipped through the threads, permeating layers of fabric and chilling her skin. She thought curiously of Adam and Eve, how they knew nothing of being naked until they tasted Knowledge. Were they not cold? Or was Eden so warm they hadn't an idea what cold was? She wished she could live there, in Eden, were it must never have gotten cold.

As it was, she hurried through the rain, making a beeline for the stables. The small brown structure was in sight, the musty smell reaching her nose and tickling it with its old sweetness. Under the roof, she sighed as she entered the small bubble of warmth given off by the animals kept here. The young stable boy was attending to the feed and saw Winry immediately upon her entry.

"Miss Winry!" The boy said, smiling a gap-toothed smile. "You escaped!"

Winry grinned at the boy who knew her so well. "Don't you go about telling my mama about it, Rick!" She ruffled the little boy's hair and smiled sweetly. In a second however her expression turned concerned. "Where is your brother, dear? He didn't just leave with the carriage, did he?" She fretted. The last time Leo had caught a chill she'd feared they would lose him from the height of his fever.

Rick smiled confusedly and shook his head. "No, it was some blond chap. The new hand you got in there, right miss?"

Winry's brow wrinkled thoughtfully, blinking her blue eyes as she recalled the boy she had seen on the staircase that day. He'd had the prettiest gold hair she'd ever seen, a shade so unique she'd never seen it in London before. He was disheveled to the point he looked like he'd survived a beating. But the lost look in his strange eyes was what she recalled most endearingly about him. He'd looked so helpless, like a lost puppy or a confused bird.

Shaking her head she smiled at Rick, then cast her gaze down the row of stalls, spying a familiar face. "Rick, how is my Abie doing?"

Rick smiled at her. "She's doing good, I just cleaned her shoes!" The little boy took Winry's pale hand in his and lead her down the row of stalls as she smiled.

It was easy to forget he was an orphan.

* * *

><p>AN: Yay! I'm so relieved to have this up. I know...it's a filler chapter. You know all stories start out slow! I'm thinking Ed and Winry will run into each other again... how I end up doing this is a mystery (even to me). I also have decided on Winry's illnesses! (yes, plural. I'm cruel)<p>

Also...Someone brought up the formidable issue of "lemon." I had intended to skirt around it, but if I just couldn't resist, I was going to up the rating... BUT, I wanna ask you guys first! Um, I'll put up a poll on my profile? Yeah, I'll do that. I'll count votes in the review section too, because I know people are lazy (me) sometimes and all that.

Let's hear it for EdxWin! :D ...no? Well, that's okay since RoyxEd is so popular with the fanbase it's practically a canon pairing...

Thanks for reading, reviewing, faving and following~ lol ^^ I appreciate it!

And for a hint, I thought I'd tell you I have some research on Scotland Yard to do! :D

-Rain


	5. Fallax

He could feel it, a prickle of anticipation, a twinge of a feeling of unpreparedness. A tickle in the back of his throat, pressure building, building, and building until, "Ah-CHOO!"

Edward glared grimly at the muddy road between the horse's ears as he wiped his nose. He cursed the rain, cursed the cold, cursed his shopping list, and cursed the clerk who decided to make him wait outside for ten minutes while he packaged his vegetables.

Now he had a freaking cold and a really bad mood to brighten his already wonderful day. He couldn't wait until he unloaded all the groceries and be yelled at by the cook for the food being soggy. _And for taking nearly two hours_, he pointed out to himself as another sneeze assailed him.

It was a relief to see the mansion again as the horse made it over the hill. The ivy-strewn manor still looked alien and unwelcoming to him, but he appreciated its promise of dry warmth all the same. But then he grimaced, recalling the leak in the roof of the servant's quarters. The old hut was spacious and had its own fireplace as well as enough cots for an army, but it was old. Patches were leaky, and being on the top bunk did little to let him forget that fact.

Finally he pulled up to the stables, the horse's hooves splashing up muddy water as the animal snorted, sending steam into the air. Edward pulled the horse to a stop, leaning back with the leather reins in his hands. He slid from the seat, mud spraying all over his shiny shoes and the bottoms of his black trousers. The rain pounded against his ear drums, collectively a dull roar, a torrent of sound that was entirely too familiar. _But still..._ he smiled. _To be allowed outside, even when it was raining. It's nice._

Dropping his chin, his smile fell away and he stomped up to the stable door, stepping into the structure made warm by the animals it housed. "Boy!" He called. He put his hand on the doorjamb as he shook water from his hair, crystal droplets flying from the soaked gold tendrils. Grimacing, he wiped at his forehead to which his wet hair clung to, feeling like a blonde drowned rat, dripping from everywhere. He thought solemnly of his poor coat. He wouldn't dare ask for a new one if it was truly ruined, but try to fix it as best he could and maybe even solve the dilemma with sheer will and determination alone.

The small boy with skin like creamed coffee came running with a shout of, "COMING!" and quickly set about unhitching the horse and putting it away. Edward took a moment to breathe in the warmth of the stable, the nutty hay and animal smell comforting in a way he found totally foreign. He had spent his entire life in a city.

...Well, that was not entirely true.

Shutting that thought out before it had a chance to even assert himself, he tried to enjoy the heat while he could. He had to lug in all the food stuffs into the kitchen next. Ed shuddered at the mere thought, dreading it. _I'll get one of the stable boys to help..._ Then again, their hands probably were not clean.

"Rick, where did you go?" A soft, melodic voice gave Edward a bit of a start. It came from behind him, and was punctuated by the nicker of a horse. Edward's head snapped around automatically, without any volition of his own. He was shocked to see the girl from the stairway, the Miss Winry, standing there amongst the animals and hay.

She did not wear the lovely, frilled and graceful gowns of the day's society. She wore what appeared to be a slip or a bed gown, made of wool or cotton dyed dark green, and she was swathed in a dark cloak. Blinking, his eyes inexplicably dropped to her feet and were held there. On her feet were some kind of brown monstrosity he never would have expected to find upon such a delicate girl. Boots with thick, industrial laces and huge rubber soles so thick they added three inches to her height. They were dusty and stained with smears of black...

And were incredibly out of place on the beautiful girl.

Edward let out a little "Heh" of amusement, finding the oddity humorous. But the little chuckle left him mildly astonished. He had forgotten he could make such a sound. It sounded foreign and alien to his own ears.

"Oh." The girl looked taken aback. She hadn't expected him? More like he hadn't expected her. What was she doing out here anyways? He was sure he had heard from the maids that she was bedridden today. It was very curious to find her out and about, especially here.

"You're the new servant..."

Edward blanched at that. It was like all the weight in his body rushed down to his feet, and his blood had frozen in his veins. The heart in his chest iced over with cold fury, having had the brutal reminder of his helplessness and the cruelty forced upon him crammed down his throat. His eyes turned blank and cold as he stared at her nose.

"Yes. Edward Elric, at your service, mistress." He gave a stiff bow about the waist with either of his arms braced in front and behind him like unrelenting iron bars.

The girl looked even more startled than before, blinking and stumbling over her words. Edward watched her quivering lips instead of her eyes as she squeaked out a nervous, "Yes. R-right." She shuffled her feet in an anxious way that he found strangely adorable, even with the hideous boots, but quelled the thought quickly.

The stable boy named Rick came rushing in, drenched from the rain and gasping as if he had run a mile. "Ah! Mister Elric, please don't tell Winry's parents 'bout her bein' out here!" The boy pleaded. Then he smiled innocently in the way only children could. "It's a secret, see? An' I always make sure she's safe while she's here."

Edward turned his gaze to the boy, mildly shocked by the boy's enthusiasm and devotion. But his eyes quickly turned blank again. "It does not make a difference to me." He dismissed it with a bland tone. He turned and noted that the horse had been put away and the carriage waited to be unloaded. Edward internally sighed at the upcoming chore. "Just as long as she doesn't catch a chill from the rain, I'll keep my silence." He said without looking at either of them.

Then, once more, he ducked into the rain that sought to pound him into the earth and drown him. Merely because it wished to.

* * *

><p>Winry let out a sneeze and cursed herself in her head. How would she explain this away? One didn't catch a cold from sitting about their room all day! That, and the golden haired boy. <em>Edward.<em> She corrected. _Edward Elric._

She was back in her bed, swathed in blankets and surrounded by lavish pillows. The fireplace emanated a comforting heat, as did the pot of coals that were tucked amongst her covers at the foot of her bed. Winry sighed and let her head fall back, staring at the ceiling above her.

Maybe he would not hear of her cold, or not be approached by any of the curious staff. Maybe he would just keep his silence despite what he said, she thought hopefully. Then she sneezed again and reminded herself that people were not kind without reason.

And she was convinced that that young man had no reason to be kind to her.

She recalled the way the boy's expression had fallen when she called him the 'new servant.' She had spent hours mulling it over. His expression hadn't quite fallen, no that was too mundane to describe it. It was more like it had crumpled, collapsed in on itself, and then been stomped on by someone he loved. She winced at the image her brain created.

But how could the phrase 'new servant' be offensive? Well, she thought dully, maybe he wishes he was not of lower class. She could understand that well. Perhaps her uncle did not pay him sufficiently, or treat him kindly enough. While her uncle had been very kind and doting on her, she recalled noticing him dismiss the maids rather brusquely while he had visited once.

_He must not realize how well we treat our servants_, she decided. The Rockbells treated their servants like extended family. She had seen her father more than once, perched upon the roof of the servants' quarters with a hammer helping patch up a leak. Her mother invited the elderly maids to have tea. Paninya and Rose were dear friends of Winry herself.

Winry set her jaw, resolved. She had no reason to other than she wanted to. She knew nothing of the young man, not any inkling of a clue of his personality or past. She had thought she had seen a kind boy on the stairs, but his coldness in the stables boggled her. But she would soften Mister Elric and show him that being a servant of Rockbell Manor was not so bad.

* * *

><p>Edward had no idea how exactly he had come to be sitting in the Master's study. He had unloaded groceries and assisted Cook with supper and stood by to attend to any of the family's needs while they dined. He had watched the women leave and the master stand to follow, but pause at the door for an extended length of time.<p>

"Sir?" Edward had questioned quietly. Only then did he notice that the rest of the staff had slipped out of the dining room.

Master Urey turned and gave Ed a kind smile. "Edward, boy, would you mind too terribly much coming with me to my private study? If you are not too busy, of course."

What a redundant question. Edward would be dumb if he didn't know that this was no question, not a request in the least. To turn down the master of the house was equal to turning down a request from the Almighty Lord himself. In his previous house, he would be beaten severely for turning down such a thing.

So he nodded, and followed the doctor.

But he didn't expect to be forced to sit in a wing backed chair and stared at for a full five minutes. He had long ago shrunk as far as proper into the vast chair under the master's gaze. Edward couldn't help but feel like a caged animal forced into a corner. He wanted to flee. Sweat dripped from his temple down to his chin, and then fell down his collar. Swallowing, he tried to dredge up the nerve to ask the doctor a question. Or say anything, for that matter!

Edward was opening his mouth to say something when the doctor pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes, effectively dispelling any words Edward may or may not have held on his tongue. He shut his mouth with a snap, only to realize the master did not intend to speak just yet.

Finally he managed mumble, "Sir?"

Urey stood like that for a beat longer, seeming to collect his thoughts. He stared at Edward in the eye, his serious expression stunning the young man. "Son, what kind of work did you do for my brother?" The doctor asked in a deadpan voice.

Edward's breath froze in his throat. What kind of work? What kind of work **hadn't** he done? He spent a whole damn evening as a **footrest** for the man once. The man had once made him pull a huge stone statue to the top of a hill for the hell of it. Never mind when he was forced to...entertain...the man or his guests. He could never tell the doctor that. _What do I say? What do I say?_

But Edward couldn't even contemplate saying anything around the lump lodged in his throat. He swallowed in vain, trying to lessen the pressure caused by his own panic. "Lots...lots of work." Edward said numbly. He was reliving all of it. All the beatings and degrading and humiliation. All the pain of losing his freedom, his brother, and his dignity. He was too fully immersed in the nightmare to compose his expression.

Suddenly Urey was snapping his fingers in front of the boy's face. "Edward, tell me." The doctor demanded. The severe tone and dead serious expression was a huge turnaround from the light and kind man Edward had first met. It shocked and sort of scared him. "Edward, what did he make you do?"

Dazed, Edward just shook his head mutely.

Urey let out a long frustrated breath from his nose and tried again. "Edward, son, tell me." He said ruthlessly, making sure he caught the younger's eyes and held them. "Are you..." He hesitated, as if trying to find the way to properly word it.

Edward himself had gone cold. His thoughts had long since fled, and only horror filled him. Some semblance of sanity remained in the back of his mind. It screamed at him to calm down. He was showing too much. His damn eyes were giving everything away, all his pain and horror plainly visible in them. That scrap of sanity was cursing his overly-expressive eyes, but all Edward could really think was that the doctor knew. He _knew._

"Are you a slave, son...?"

Edward said nothing, only stared up at the doctor. Then he dropped his head into his hands.

* * *

><p>AN: First quarter assessments everywhere! . This quarter was too hard for me. I'd like to do it again. Wait...I take that back. I don't want to redo Botany in Bio. I don't like Botany. F***ing plants...<p>

So, very sorry for the wait. Inspiration is a fickle fellow, you know. It decided to take a vacation. Sent me a nice post card and everything. And I even sent one back saying, "_No, I wish YOU were HERE, damn it!_"

But turns out, all I had to do was watch the last two episodes of Brotherhood to coax it back. Whoo-hoo! :D I watched it in Japanese though. I was highly creeped out by the fact that everyone was calling Ed Edo and that said Edo sounded like Naruto. Especially when he was confessing to Winry (You know that scene at the train station? It's my all time FAVORITE! ^^) Wait, no, I like the scene when Winry's gonna shoot Scar and Ed pops in the way and it was all CUTE and gushygushygush ^^ I love little Ed too, but he's grown-up-Ed in this one, since I wanted them older, you know...JUST IN CASE...

Thank you for reading this train wreck of a fic! That, and favoriting (me, and the story o.o), subscribing (again, me, and the story o.o), and reviewing! (just the story xD)

With love,

-Rain

UWAH! Forgot! Disclaimer! The characters of Fullmetal Alchemist (remember kids, Full Metal is two words, and Fullmetal Alchemist is two words) are the work of Hiromu Arakawa. But remember, if you steal this and post this as your own, you **will** die. ^^


	6. Cruento

Winry woke the next morning with, astonishingly, no headache or chest pains or even dizziness. But her nose was running like crazy. She reveled in the uncommon gift and sprung from the bed and practically threw herself into the dress Rose held for her. She rinsed her mouth with rose water, scrubbed her teeth and chewed on a leaf of spearmint, but was stopped by her maid. After breathing in steam from a bowl of boiling water at Rose's insistence, Winry hopped into her slippers and disappeared from the room too quickly for Rose to even call out to her.

The girl dashed down the stairs as quickly as she dared, pale pink skirts a flurry with her quick movements. Exhilarated by her lack of pain and fatigue, she giggled as she swung around the banister to make the corner on the landing, the smooth wood warming to the friction her hand caused. She smiled at her favorite suit of armor as she passed it and skipped along to the kitchens.

Before she got there however, Paninya rolled into her path. The coffee-skinned girl smiled in greeting at her friend and mistress and said, "Well! You're looking bright eyed this morning!"

Winry smiled down at the maid, sparing a sorrowful glance to the wheelchair Paninya was forced to spend her life in. Paninya had been a patient of her father's after a train accident had taken her parents and both of the girl's legs. She'd been only ten years old then. One day when Winry had gone with her father to work she had visited Paninya. Upon seeing the friendship blooming between his daughter and orphaned girl, Urey made the decision to take the girl in and let her work in the house, despite her crippled state.

"Where you headin' in a hurry, Miss?" Paninya said cheerfully from her chair. Her skirts and a blanket draped over her lap concealed the fact that she was in fact missing limbs.

Winry smiled and opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the tolling of the grandfather clock on the first landing of the stairs. She gasped at whirled around with an exclamation of, "It's seven o'clock!" Her father would be leaving for work soon. Winry hurried away with an apology to Paninya, which left the older girl chuckling as she wheeled into the kitchen.

Winry dashed across the foyer, passing the armor again, her eyes keen on the door to the parlor before her. But, having forgotten to heft up her skirts as she ran, she stepped on her hem and nearly met the floor. But in the last second, a familiar arm caught her.

"Winry, dear! What are you doing out of bed?" Her father's concerned voice asked.

Embarrassed and out of breath, Winry straightened herself and looked up at her father. His blonde hair was combed back neatly and he wore a simple white suit and pale yellow tie. His light blue eyes stared anxiously at her.

Winry drew a blank, momentarily unsure of how to answer. She resisted the urge to say 'uhh' dumbly. Then the light bulb went off. "Oh! I'm feeling very well! Very well indeed, Papa! Isn't that wonderful?" she gushed in her exuberance. "And, well, I was hoping..." Winry trailed off, her eyes bright with expectant hope.

Urey sighed solemnly. "You want to come to work with me?" His voice sounded droll, as if he had uttered this phrase many times.

Winry smiled hugely, while trying to stifle her exuberance as she said, "Yes!"

Her father sighed again and maneuvered passed her. "Alright, dear, get your coat."

Winry acquiesced most happily and soon joined her father at the door. Upon her return to the foyer, however, she noticed something that gave her pause.

Her father stood conversing with someone, someone who bowed their head, staring at the ground to escape her father's gaze, with long hair shielding their face. _It's that boy_, thought Winry. _The one with the golden eyes and hair.  
><em>  
><em>Edward Elric.<em>

She watched her father place a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, which made the boy flinch. Winry winced at her father's hurt expression, feeling more sympathy for him than the boy. Surely he knew that her father was a doctor! A man of healing! He would never lay a harmful hand on anybody, especially one of his own staff! It must have hurt her father deeply to see him react in such a way, and Winry's pale pink lips turned down in a worried frown. She clutched her parka across her chest tighter and made sure to make her footsteps loud enough to echo through the high ceilinged hall.

Her father turned and managed a hesitant smile at her, but the younger man continued to stare at the floor. At this, Winry's concern shifted, her blue eyes trained on the golden haired boy with worried intensity. But still he did not raise his gaze.

"Well, ready dear? We best be going. I don't want to be late, of course." Her father said after a moment's hesitation.

Winry reluctantly returned her gaze to her father, and nodded. "Y-yes. Certainly." She watched the servant boy bow his head quickly and turn away. She followed her father and the boy to the door as he held it open for them. She noticed her father shoot the boy a regretful look, then turn away. Winry tried to get a glimpse of the boy's expression, but his long forelocks covered his eyes completely. Huffing with exasperation, she climbed into the carriage, her father following after, and they were soon on their way.

* * *

><p>Edward shut the door slowly, his eyes still cast downward. What would he do now? He could never escape now. The doctor knew, and now the master knew there was no freedom for him. He had not believed that the doctor would not puzzle it out eventually, but he had hoped, that some day, he could leave and be free as any man with rights can.<p>

But he had none.

For a wild moment in master's study, Edward had a thought. An uncultivated and iridescent thought that he now wholly regretted thinking. For that wild moment, he had thought the kind doctor would take pity on him and give him his freedom. The thought had made his heart leap and his breath freeze.

But the doctor had not said a word about it. And then he left. Left him in that study with the crushing grief and pain alone.

But he was always alone, it made little difference.

The high walls and pillars of the foyer were suddenly gigantic, and he was a measly ant moving amongst them. With blank eyes and inverted thoughts, Edward wandered forward, his legs taking him somewhere without his volition. He went over the questions the master had asked him, the man's voice ringing over and over in his ears.

So many questions.

How did this happen?

Was he purchased?

How long ago?

Why?

Endlessly why.

As if _he_ knew why. How could he know? He asked himself that every minute of every day.

_Why am I cursed with this fate? What did I do to deserve this? Why must I lose everything, and gain nothing? How is that fair? Where was the exchange? I gained nothing for what I lost._

Edward tortured himself with these thoughts for the remainder of the hours ahead of him. He had lost so much. His mother. His home. His brother... His freedom... His dignity... His whole damn existence was shit, and he knew it.

And as he washed dishes for Cook, his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows, he gazed dully down at the bubbles. He drew a large knife from the water, the liquid shining off its surface. It was a large carving knife, wide and wickedly sharp. _How easily it could end me,_ Edward thought morbidly. He tested the edge with his finger, finding it superbly sharp. How easily it could slash through his skin, deep into his flesh and separate veins. Would the pain be brief? Would it last? He thought of the blood, how it would drip from his wrist, and so very red it would be.

He'd always admired the color.

Clenching his teeth, he shook those thoughts from his head. He did not think the doctor or the staff would appreciate the mess those actions would leave behind. That gave him a grim smile. _Yes,_ he thought. _It would be a truly nasty mess. And I would be absent and unable to clean it up._

His emotional barriers must have fallen hard, because he eventually found himself thinking of Alphonse. His brother. His brother who had been ripped away from him at a time when he thought he had already lost everything. His brother who he had not been able to protect, to save. His brother whose last memory of his older brother was watching him die on the inside.

It was enough to bring Edward to his knees in agony. Oh, how he regretted it. Regretted everything that led to he and his brother being stolen and had their rights ripped away. He wished he had fought harder. Back then, he could have. But not anymore. Edward's eyes reflected back at him in the murky dish water.

He could not fight anymore. The ability had left him long ago.

* * *

><p>"An extra blanket? Right away, ma'am!"<p>

Winry slipped out of the patient's room with a smile spread across her face. She was immensely out of place; all pale skinned and spritely with shining hair and a pretty gown. But she could not have been more at ease. Here, helping people, she was at home.

The hospital was rather far from her home, which rested on the outskirts of London. It was a good two hour's carriage ride. The hospital had been erected by Urey Rockbell himself, funded by him and many other beneficiaries who admired Winry's father.

She retrieved a blanket from the stack sitting atop the cast iron stove where they were kept warm, making sure she took the one from the bottom of the pile. She hurried back down the halls, smiling and greeting the patients and doctors who called out happy greetings to her.

"Miss Winry! Hello!"

"Good morning, Mister Thereis!"

"Dearest Sunshine! You're here!"

"Miss Ignis! I will be there shortly!"

"Winry, dear, your father brought you along?"

"At my insistence, Doctor Marcoh."

Winry hurried around the corner and slipped behind the curtain to the patient's room, the folded warm blanket in her arms. She saw the woman in the bed and smiled at her, a smile the woman returned.

"You didn't need to do that dear, I would have been fine." Said the woman. She had dark hair full of thousands of braids, and a pretty, yet fierce face, with equally dark eyes.

Winry just shook her head at the older woman. "Missus Izumi, don't be so noble." She scolded lightly. She handed the blanket over to Izumi's large husband, his huge, meaty fingers clamping around the warm blanket with a surprisingly gentle grip.

Winry's smile turned sad as she watched Mister Sig drape the blanket over his wife. Izumi smiled lovingly at him, but there was a regret in her eyes, a sadness that sent a stab of sympathetic pain through the young watching girl.

Mrs. Izumi Curtis was due for another surgery today, which was why Winry had been dead set on coming to the hospital today. She clasped her hands behind her back as she watched the woman realize how warm the blanket was and pressed it to her cold cheek. Izumi smiled at the blonde girl. "Thank you, Winry."

Winry smiled and nodded before quitting the room, leaving the couple to prepare for Izumi's upcoming surgery.

She thought sadly of Mrs. Izumi's longing for a child, her guilt and regret over losing her God-given ability to have one. A terrible accident had robbed the strong woman of that gift, an accident that could have so easily been avoided. It was a carriage, the reason for it that is. Mrs. Izumi had been crossing the street in the city, forgetting to look in her haste, and had been struck by a carriage which had been going far too fast down the cobblestone street. The accident had caused Izumi to lose her baby, and her internal organs were damaged. The first few surgeries had been difficult. Her womb had to be removed, as well as parts of her small intestine, and her liver had been damaged. Usually, that would be the end of it. But Izumi was still not well.

The sound of coughing stopped Winry in her tracks, her eyes widening. She spun around and rushed back to Izumi's room, her feet stumbling and slipping on the polished stone floor.

"Izumi!" Mister Sig's voice cried.

Winry jerked the curtain aside and froze. Izumi clutched her stomach as pain wracked her body, her hand clasped to her mouth as blood slid between her fingers. Coughs tore through her ravaged throat as her husband held her shoulders and looked positively horrified.

Winry turned and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Papa! She's hemorrhaging!"

And all hell broke loose.

* * *

><p>Master Rockbell and his daughter returned as the sun began to set. Edward let them in, making sure not to give the master a chance to knock, or open the door himself. The doctor gave the boy an exhausted, but grateful smile that went unnoticed. Edward did notice, however, that both of them seemed very fatigued, and there was a splatter of blood on the girl's skirt. He returned his gaze to the floor and bowed respectfully upon their entry.<p>

The master's wife hurried over to greet them, the pink-haired maid emerging behind her from the parlor. The woman slowed as she took in her husband's and daughter's tired appearances. Urey drew his wife into a hug with a tired sigh. The woman drew away and quickly embraced her daughter. She planted a kiss on the girl's forehead.

"You did _not_ say goodbye to me this morning." She scolded.

The girl looked sheepish. "Sorry Mother."

The maid, Rose, approached the trio, her eyes immediately drawn to the stain on Miss Winry's skirt. Her violet-grey eyes widened. "Winry! What happened?"

The girl looked down and inspected the splatter. Her brow creased. "Oh... It is Ms. Curtis's blood." She explained.

Mrs. Rockbell looked worriedly to her husband.

He shook his head and said, "She is well."

She expelled a breath of relief.

Rose spoke up, "You two look positively haggard. Have you eaten supper?"

The tired pair shook their heads, the doctor looking mildly abashed.

"Well," Winry said, "I had a glass of milk and a handful of pecans."

Her parents exchanged a worried look, and the maid began ushering her toward the dining room. Edward watched the master and his wife carefully, wondering what was causing their alarm with mild curiosity. So he missed it when the daughter's knees buckled and she collapsed on the floor. He looked when the maid called the girl's name, seeing the girl on her hands and knees on the floor. He blinked in shock, snapping out of his depressed stupor, and even took a step toward her.

But the doctor and his wife had already rushed over, leaving a disorientated butler standing by the door. He watched them lift the girl to her feet, her face far paler than it should be. They guided her to the dining room, hands on her elbows and back. He glimpsed her face before they disappeared. She looked embarrassed.

It was a moment before Edward realized that the cold draft he felt was coming through the large door which was still open wide, and he quickly closed it.

* * *

><p>Dark had fallen, lamps had been lit, and fireplaces roared. Staff went about finishing their chores quietly, chatting in hushed voices and retreating to the servant's quarters. The family had vanished, the master and his wife were likely still in the parlor, and the daughter was resting in her room. Her fainting spell earlier had all the house pale with worry. It was astounding how much everyone seemed to be attached to her, though it was understandable at the very same time. Even the detached butler was aware of her appeal. She was lovely, of course, and seemed to have inherited her father's kindness and the gentle nature of her mother.<p>

Edward was sure that he would find himself chopping wood by tomorrow. It took more fuel than he thought necessary to keep the large house warm. It was rather indicative of the chilling weather. Winter would come soon, and blanket all of London with her coldness and snow.

As it was, he was going about his last few chores alone. The other staff tended to work in social groups or pairs, but he did not. It was not that he was ostracized by them, rather he closed himself off by choice.

He liked it better that way.

The china clinked as he stacked each plate in the cabinet after polishing them clean with a cloth. Still he wondered what the doctor thought of him now. Now that he knew how lowly he was. Would he be mistreated again? Or sold? He shuddered at the thought. Maybe he should just leave. No one would find him in London. It was such a vast, crowded city. He could work odd jobs, support himself, just keep running and hope to God that no one found him... _As if you would._ A dark voice in the back of his mind said. _You don't have that in you. You have nothing left, why fight?_

_"You're a worthless piece of shit unfit to live amongst good people!"_

He winced at the voice of that man. His previous owner. Those words had preluded a beating that had broken his arm. He could still remember the agony of it, and still couldn't quite move his elbow fully without pain from the painful break.

A shrill ringing yanked him from his thoughts. _The telephone, _he realized. He set down his plate and rag and went to answer it. He had seen Yoki do it occasionally, but the little man was nowhere in sight. Or any of the other servants, for that matter.

He found the telephone in the foyer, beneath one of the windows by the door. It was an ornate device, with a wheel dial and coiling cord, all painted black and yellow, not matching the décor of the house at all. He picked up from the cradle and held it to his ear. "Rockbell residence." He announced.

"Yes, I need Doctor Rockbell right away!" shouted the caller.

Ed winced, his eardrums pounding in protest of the volume. "Yes, right away, sir." He set the telephone on the desk the device sat on and went directly to the parlor.

He tapped on the door before entering. The doctor was leaning over his desk, a scattering of papers cluttering it, his hands braced on either side as he studied the papers with intensity. Mrs. Rockbell stood in front of the desk, watching him. They both turned and stared upon Edward's entry, not offering a word to the boy. He had apparently interrupted some important conversation.

He carefully nodded his head respectfully. "A phone call, Master Rockbell." There was something strange about their expressions, something he did not want to think about too deeply.

The man blinked and nodded, and began scooping the papers into a pile, a pile which he swiftly dumped into a drawer. "Yes. Very good. Go on up, Sara, I will join you shortly." He came around the desk and gave his wife a peck on the cheek.

Edward was curious to find that the woman's eyes had not left him. She was staring at him with an odd look, a look that made Ed dreadfully nervous. Finally she looked away and wished Ed good night, something that shocked him even more. It was the kind way she said it, and the concerned light in her dark blue eyes. She left the room, slipping past Edward and going to her chambers.

Edward stared at the doctor startled, questioning. _What did he tell her?_

"Did they say who they were?"

Edward snapped out of his reverie, confused. "Sorry?"

"The person on the phone? Did they give you their name?" the doctor asked, looking confused as well.

Ed blinked. "No. But they seemed urgent."

Master Urey didn't need further explanation. He frowned and slipped past Edward on his way out. Unsure, Edward went back to his work. He heard the doctor's voice through the wall, but not concentrating on recognizing any of the words spoken. Until he heard the doctor say, "Yes, certainly. I will be there as soon as I can."

Edward set the plate on the stack as he finished polishing it. The doctor was going somewhere? This late at night? He glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. It was a quarter past nine and he wanted to leave? Where? The hospital perhaps?

"Edward? Edward, I need you!" called the doctor's hushed voice.

Puzzled, Edward dropped his cloth and poked his head into the hallway. "Sir?" he asked.

Urey appeared in the hall, saw Edward, and breathed a sigh. He smiled apologetically at the boy, which automatically set the boy on edge. What would he ask of him?

"Edward, I am truly, truly sorry, but I need someone to prepare a carriage and accompany me to the hospital. Would you?" The man looked honestly apologetic.

Edward blinked. That was all? "Oh." He said dumbly. He had expected far worse. "Ah, y-yes. Not a problem, sir." He unrolled the sleeves to his white shirt and tugged on the bottom of his grey vest. He would need a jacket, he told himself numbly. It was cold.

The doctor's face broke into a grin, his eyes crinkling around the corners. "Thank you, son. I'll be right along, just got to tell the wife where I'll be." He chuckled and went off, jogging up the stairs to his chambers.

Abandoning his chore, Edward left and found his jacket and a cloak before going out the stables.

He tried not to let it bother him that he had no one to tell where he would be.

* * *

><p>.<p>

A/N: Angsty? Maybe a little... HAPPY THANKSGIVING! :D Longest chapter yet! Yay!

So has anyone tried to translate my chapter names yet? Here's a hint: They're Latin. I know they look Italian from time to time, but they're Latin. And they, more often than not, have quite a bit to do with the subject of the chapter. ;D

Thank you again my handful of loyal reviewers! ^^

S: lol, I'm taking (another) Bio class because I want to be a veterinarian some day. I've taken a biology-related class through each year in high school. :D [Fun Fact about Formidable Rain of the Day? o.o]

kalirush: What do you mean by "proclivities"? :D *had to google its definition*

You'll notice that everyone is a tad out of character. THAT is on purpose, I SWEAR! I plan to have them be DYNAMIC CHARACTERS (back to 9th grade English, ladies and gents). I want them to grow and develop, as people do. They will gradually change into the people they should be, but they have to learn each other first. ^^

So let me think I know what I'm doing! LOL

Thanks for reading this (train wreck) fic. I really appreciate the feedback, the faves, and the followings this fic has received. And I love looking at the traffic/hits counter! I'm convinced that a good three quarters of all the hits this story gets is ME, so, you know….

Also, Microsoft Word says that Izumi is a real word, and doesn't mark it wrong... Unlike names like "Winry" and "Elric" and "Hohemheim," which are very, VERY wrong... *adds to dictionary* -_-

Much love,

-Rain

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Disclaimer: The characters of Fullmetal Alchemist are the work of Hiromu Arakawa. But remember, if you steal this and post this as your own, you **will** die. ^^


	7. Heroicus

Edward hitched the horses to the carriage himself, not to wake the stable boys: Rick and Leo. His breath fogged in the air, the cold air turning it to steam. He quickly found his hands growing cold as he waited for the doctor to join him. As he did, he glanced up at the sky. It was a clear night, thankfully. The moon was thankfully bright, illuminating the Earth beneath it in a soft white light.

Edward's thoughts inexplicably turned to the master's daughter. Though he would like to deny it, he was deathly curious as to what illness plagued her. A terminal disease? He really did not know enough to even come close to diagnosing anything from what he had seen of her ailments. But still, for some reason completely unknown to the boy, it bothered him.

When he thought of the delicate girl in her strange, beat up old boots, he found himself nearly smiling. He knew nothing about her, yet there was something about her that called to him. Or rather, called to the part of him that he had thought long dead. And frankly, it scared him.

Finally the doctor emerged from the house, a fedora slapped atop his slick blonde hair and his heels clicking on their way down the stone steps. Edward hoisted himself up onto the driver's bench after opening the door for his master. He snatched up the reins and the light-duty whip when suddenly Urey stuck his head out the window.

He looked serious. "There is an emergency, so haste would be nice. The hospital is a two hour ride away. Are you sure you want to do this?" He was offering him a choice. Him, a slave, a choice.

So in return, Edward offered the man a smirk. The off-kilter stretching of his lips felt incredibly foreign to the boy who had not made any semblance of a smile in years. "We can make it in one." And he snapped the whip.

* * *

><p>She just could not do it. Her body just would not relax. Her restless nerves kept her tossing beneath her blankets, all the restless movements tangling her fine hair. To think she had been so exhausted earlier, or how she longed for that feeling to return to her. Her mind was tired, but not her body. Her limbs felt like they ought to be doing something other than resting. Oh, how she longed for the sleepiness she had felt earlier, for now sleep eluded her.<p>

She opened her eyes in the dark of her room and watched the warm orange glow from the embers that remained in the fireplace flicker across the ceiling. She tried to remind herself of the comfortable nature of her bed, the softness of the silk sheets, the soothing of the snap and crackle of the coals in the hearth. But nothing could make her body find rest.

With a sigh she tossed over onto her side. She cast her mind back to earlier, when she had fallen in the foyer. Groaning with aggravation at herself she cursed her body for both its weakness and inability to sleep. It was her own fault really, for forgetting to eat like that. But she had been so busy, it had completely slipped her mind. But she was glad that Mrs. Izumi was well. Winry had known the woman for a long while and learned that she was a wise, admirable woman with many life lessons for someone who appeared so young.

And Mrs. Izumi was very aware of her mortality. That was something she taught Winry. That death is to be expected, and that death was something that was overlooked by most of the world. Subjectively, Mrs. Izumi knew that people would be sad if she died. Objectively, however, she knew that the world would move on without her. That she would become one with the earth, and life would go on for the rest of the world, even after she was gone.

Izumi tried to teach Winry that dying was a part of life. But Winry disagreed. Dying was a part of death. _Living_ was a part of life. It was either one or the other.

But when she thought of it that way, she couldn't tell to which side she belonged. She was neither dying nor living. Not even her parents knew to which one she belonged in. So she was a grey area, somewhere in between, unsure and unknowing.

And it was terrifying.

* * *

><p>Edward broke his promise. It had been an hour and a half since they had left the manor and they had yet to arrive at the hospital. He snapped the whip over the horses relentlessly, gritting his teeth in frustration. They had been riding for what felt like an eternity and his shoulders were stiff and his bottom hurt like one wouldn't believe. There were no cushions on the driver's bench. Figures.<p>

The doctor leaned his head out the window, an unhappy expression etched on his face. "You're doing fine, we're making great time." The man reassured.

Ed glanced back, noting the doctor's pained expression with a bit of amusement. It probably was not too comfortable of a ride for his master either. Either way, he snapped the whip, urging the horses faster.  
>Finally they arrived at the hospital, forty five minutes after Edward said he would get them there. Urey was grateful though, praising Edward for his haste, all the while rubbing his sore bottom. Ed jumped from the driver's bench, dirt finally under his shoes. He leaned back with a grimace, his back screaming in protest as he tried to limber his muscles.<p>

Urey found a stable hand and tipped him a shiny coin which Edward suspected was more than a half pence. The pair of horses were exhausted and spun up from the constant snap of the whip. Edward felt guilty for pushing them so hard. He knew what it was like to be pushed beyond your limits and still have to keep going even afterwards. He offered a silent apology to the beasts of burden and hoped the stable boy would rest them well.

"Come with me, son. No need to sit out in the cold, correct?" Urey said while moving toward the large industrial pair of steel doors of the hospital.

Edward followed the doctor with only a moment's hesitation. He observed the lobby with a rising feeling of foreboding. It was, in a word, bleak. "You may want to incorporate a window." He mumbled under his breath.

Dr. Urey looked down in surprise, and looked around the bustling grey room. He seemed to be considering it.

* * *

><p>Dark had fallen into the deep dark hue of midnight. The time of the hour was unclear, but what was clear was the lateness. The road was cobbled with mismatched stones worn into flatness. Shadows predominated the light, gas lights about the streets beginning to dim. Two men walked alone, but alongside the other. Their trek to the stables was a longer one than they had initially believed, but that was the least on either of their minds.<p>

Edward would never be able to unhear what his poor ears had just been ravaged with for the past four hours. Four hours.

"So let me get this straight, and please correct me if I am wrong. A woman who has had birth complications in the past went into labor six hours ago with triplets?" Edward was staring at the doctor with a tortured and aghast expression. His poor ears! If what he had been through in his life didn't scar him, this most certainly had. She had sounded as if she would surely die! The screams and shockingly filthy curses that had emanated from that room were enough to make a war veteran piss himself.

Urey chuckled good-naturedly. "That correct. They wanted me to be there in case there were severe complications. T'was a good thing too. She nearly lost the last child she was so exhausted."

Ed decided that the doctor looked possibly equally exhausted. There were deep circles under his bright blue eyes. Had he not worked a full day at the hospital earlier? And yet here the man was. Diligently working to heal others, even when his own health was at stake.

Doctor Urey Rockbell was a good man, Edward decided. A far cry from the evil he had thought the man capable of when all Edward had been given to expect from any human being was cruelty and abuse.

"I'd have been better off with the horses in the stables." Edward grumbled, massaging his temples as if to rub away the memory.

Urey laughed heartily. "I've never seen you so spirited, my boy! It's refreshing!"

Edward blinked down at the blackness of the paved street. Was he spirited? Really? What had changed? Since _when?_

The pairs' footsteps were suddenly joined by another's. The likeliness of another person being out and about the outskirts of London was rare. The chance of them being innocent individuals was even slimmer.

Both men paused in their steps and looked toward an alley were a figure loomed. A grinning gold tooth caught the light maliciously.

Immediately suspicious, Edward grasped his master's elbow and pulled him away with urgency. Another figure stepped from the shadows to block their path, grimy teeth aglow in the moonlight.

"Where'dya think _you're_goin, pretty boy?" The man who had sprung up in front of Edward stepped further out of the shadows.

A sense of alarm rose within the young man with the golden eyes. Urey had a hold of his sleeve, and for a moment Ed was shocked when Urey did not intend to run. He was trying to pull Edward behind him.

But Ed wasn't allowing that. He looked quickly about their immediate location. Two men had already shown themselves. Edward could see another in the alley behind the one with the gold tooth. From the strewn shadows across the cobbled ground Edward could deduce that there were at least three more. Six total.

Not the best odds for a doctor and his butler.

All he would remember about the men that night were their grinning mouths and malicious eyes. What he would however remember clearly was the feeling of this primal anger rise within him. It was the clenching of his fists and spark in his eyes. A bubbling urge to fight. A baser instinct sharpening his senses, focusing his thoughts on one thing and one thing alone: making his opponents bleed. He would remember his hands tightening into fists, and the words spoken by his master.

"Edward, son, run back to the hospital." Urey spoke in a hushed voice. "You need not concern yourself with this."

He had practically pleaded with the boy. But he had not heeded his master's words. The men closed in, each leaving their shadows boldly with manic grins. A steel pipe gleamed in one's hands, a wooden club was clasped in another's. One donned brass knuckles. Edward heard the click of the hammer of a pistol.

The odds really were against them. But the insane urge had not fled him, but it appeared all thoughts of self-preservation had.

The one with the gold tooth stepped toward Urey and took hold of the doctor's arm roughly. "You got money on ya, chap?" A knife appeared in the man's hand and he pressed it to Mr. Rockbell's stomach in a silent threat to eviscerate him.

The grimy toothed man grinned largely right at Edward, sending a spark of anger through the boy. "Kid looks tough. Kinda on the short side, though, don'cha think, Benj-"

The man never did get a chance to finish his sentence. And likely would never utter another intelligible word around his mouthful of broken teeth and an unhinged jaw ever again. Ed watched the man fall back, gravity pulling and pulling his body until his skull cracked on the stone ground with cold eyes.

_I. Am. Not. Short._

Every man on the street was given pause at the boy's unexpected actions. His master was staring at him in shock and awe, with fear in his eyes. Fear for the boy's well being, that is. The others were equally shocked, but angry.

Edward didn't remember who charged first. He thought it was probably the one with the pipe. But soon the rest followed and it didn't matter who had been the first. It was a flurry of limbs and spits of curses and throwing of weight, not the graceful dance of organized fighting between two skilled individuals. Ed broke someone's nose, but was soon yanked back by another, arms immobilizing his arms and clenching around his neck.

He thrashed in the man's hold, taking a punch to the stomach from the one with brass knuckles and another to the cheek. When he saw the pipe whistling through the air toward his head he kicked up, up, and up, using someone's face as leverage, until he flew from the arms that pinned him. He skidded on his hands and knees, suddenly exhilarated.

Urey would tell him later that the grin on his face had been rather startling.

Edward threw himself back into the fray, grabbing someone's wrist and planting a foot on their back, then snapping the arm out of its socket. That man fell to the ground screaming. In his peripheral vision he saw Urey throwing his own punches.

It was the damn funniest thing he'd ever seen in his life, because the whole time the doctor was apologizing profusely to the men he hit.

Edward fought with all his might, which was considerable. He was in awe at his ability and strength, things he had forgotten he'd had. It was intoxicating, the rush of adrenaline and the numbness to pain that came with it. He took a hard kick to the side and winced, noting that it would likely hurt terribly tomorrow. So he spun and punched the one who'd kicked him so hard in the nose that his head snapped back.

_Click._

Edward froze at the sound and flung himself toward the doctor without hesitation. His master was held by two men, one had him in a haphazard choke hold and the other clung to his elbow. But Urey had heard the noise and fought to take a step forward, toward Edward.

_Bang!_

The shot rang out in the still night air. Lights flickered in neighboring windows, faint voices of shock behind walls of homes reached the group on the street, a group that suddenly become amazingly, inexplicably silent.

Blood streamed through him as Edward's legs gave out beneath him. Not even the thrill of adrenaline could numb this pain. He grimaced, pressing his hand to the source of pain. But when he looked down to see the source of blood and agony, he was relieved to see it had not struck anywhere vital. Just his leg.

"Edward!" His master's voice was calling him, over and over. He couldn't fight off the two that held him to get to the boy. Each other man was quiet, some watching with satisfaction on their faces.

Ed's breath sliced through his teeth as he struggled to return to his feet. He knew pain like this. And he had known pain worse. He staggered, but rose slowly, albeit unsteadily. Blood soaked his clothes, but his glare was strong. He turned his head and spat red.

The man with the gun cursed foully, cocking the hammer back for another shot.

It was in this moment that all feeling fled from Edward's body.

And there was just forward motion.

He rushed forward, ducking low, under the range of the pistol's barrel. He threw his elbow into the man's gut, and a second shot fired off into the sky, leaving Ed's ears ringing and deaf. The man hit the ground with Edward atop him, flinging punch after powerful punch at the man's face.

It was all too soon when he was ripped away by brutal hands. He was yanked to his feet and struck in the eye. Acting instinctively, he spat. There was a growl and he was shoved away. Stumbling, he realized the fight was over.

By then others had braved the commotion and stepped in. The attackers that remained able to move and conscious fled. The constable had been called and was on his way. One or two men groaned in pain as they writhed on the cobblestone street. Blood and teeth were strewn about, weapons were cast aside as well as a lone shoe.

Pain and fatigue finally consuming him, Edward sunk to his knees. His breath was erratic and damn near everything hurt. He examined his bloodied knuckles with a droll humor in his eyes. The wound in his thigh pulsed with pain, his face was swelling, and blood dripped down his chin from a bloodied lip.

But he remembered, and would remember for years to come, that when he had fought with everything he'd had that he had felt something he had not felt in what seemed like eternity.

He had felt free.

Someone was suddenly beside him, speaking to him, saying his name. Edward looked dazedly at Urey, watching the man's concerned eyes check him over. He watched the man wince as he looked down at Edward's bloodied leg.

Urey Rockbell was a kind man. And, Edward realized, someone he could trust.

* * *

><p>"You took the bullet out?" Doctor Marcoh asked, small eyes open wide.<p>

Urey held up a little corked bottle and shook it, sending a little black metal ball dinging against the glass. "He spat curses so foul I'm sure the Devil himself was impressed!" The doctor chuckled, pocketing the thing like it was a souvenir.

The younger doctor began to walk down the hallway and Dr. Marcoh followed after. "But how is he?" the elder man asked.

Urey shrugged, the high from the excitement earlier having yet to wear off. "Scrapes, bruises, minor concussion maybe. He'll be hurting like the dickens for a few days." The blonde man scoffed and nodded to a tired looking nurse passing by.

Marcoh was amazed. "You ought to raise that one's pay if you ask me."

Urey laughed good-humouredly at that. But then he sobered, considering something. He paused in his steps as a slow smile spread across his face. "You know what, I have a better idea..."

They reached the curtain to Edward's room. The bright morning sun poured from the skylight above, warming the immediate area with its light. The country of England was waking, and he had yet to get a blink of sleep. Urey sighed and looked sideways at Marcoh. "Be sure to let someone know that I will not be coming into work today or tomorrow."

"O-of course, sir."

With a mischievous smile Mr. Rockbell shoved through the curtain and disappeared from sight.

Marcoh turned away with a sigh and started to walk away. But before he could escape hearing range he heard Urey's overly cheery voice saying, "Bad news! We're going to have to amputate!"

The answering shout shook the window panes. "WHAT?"

Urey Rockbell's laughter echoed through the halls.

* * *

><p>AN: That last chapter looked A LOT longer on MS word... Oh well... -_-' Quality takes precedence over quantity, correct?

This chapter just didn't want to come to me. Well, it was mostly Ed. Winry's part was a breeze, but Edo just wasn't working with me. Yeah, that paragraph right after Winry's part? Took me three days to write. Ridiculous!

I absolutely LOVED my reviews last chapter! You all are just the sweetest! ^^ And prompt, too. o.o I had, like, 4 after only 2 hours. Like, WHOA! xD

And yes, S, grammar and spelling mistakes stand out to me too. So much so that, 1, it drives me absolutely crazy, and 2, all my friends ask me to proof read their papers. xD I'd be a beta if I wasn't such a flake with those kinda things!

Okay, so into the plot! Here we go~ *cracks knuckles* Scared? I know I am. o.o

What does Royai mean? /random

BTW, Edo actually ISN'T short. He's older. Because I'm the author and can do that stuff. ^^ And yes, you all are curious about the automail thing, eh? Well, SO AM I! xD

Oh, and please note that the woman in labor was no one we know. I realized that some may be misled into believing her to be Izumi, so I thought I'd clear that up.

Yeah, so, enough of my rambling! Thank you for reading! ^^

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With much homework being put off,

-Rain

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::BONUS::

A translation of all the chapter names thus far! ;D

Captivus: Captured, taken, prisoner

Mortalis: Subject to death, mortal

Candidus: Shining white, with the suggestion of beauty, fair

Aegrotatio: Sickness of body or mind

Fallax: Deceitful, treacherous, or false

Cruento: To make bloody, stain with blood

Heroicus: Relating to the heroes, heroic


	8. Denique

**Denique – At long last.**

Winry woke the next morning feeling groggy and with a pulsing headache. She had no idea when or how she had managed to fall asleep the night prior, but what ever sleep she had managed to achieve had done little for her. Even as Rose pestered her with offers of tea and breakfast and clothes, Winry refused to rise. Eventually the maid subsided, closing the curtains and leaving the girl to her pain-filled wallowing.

_If I stay here all day no one would think less of me, would they?_ She mused as her temples throbbed in agony. She considered it, used to thinking through the pain, and decided that staying in bed all day seemed to be a marvelous idea. Until the beams of light streaming from the crack in the curtains moved more than a meter.

She had to pee.

With a groan she sat up, her head protesting painfully against the movement. Her legs felt weak and nearly gave out under her, but she pressed on, ignoring the pain and fighting the weakness. She relieved herself, rinsed her mouth, and tried in vain to dress herself. As she struggled with the ties on the back of her pale green gown, Rose appeared with a cart bearing tea.

Winry had never been more thankful for the maid. She immediately went to help, a wry look of exasperation on her face. Her tan fingers laced up the dress nimbly.

"How is the pain, Miss?" She asked.

Winry sighed and looped a strand of her blonde hair around her finger. "Bearable." She answered not too truthfully.

Rose finished the laces and retrieved Winry's hair brush from the vanity table. "Would tea help? I was sure to add peppermint for the pain."

Winry's shoulders slumped. "Yes...I suppose it will." Even though it never did.

Rose handed her a tea cup and saucer, and resumed the methodic brushing on Winry's long hair. They were silent, Winry sipping the warm tea and Rose running the brush through the silken yellow strands. She had to run the brush from the top of her head all the way down to her waist the hair was so long.

When she finished the maid set the brush back on the vanity table. She watched Winry's pale face in the mirror, noting how her downcast blue eyes had circles of dark beneath them, as if she had not slept fairly. She also noticed the crease between her eyebrows, a sign that the girl was in pain and attempting to hide it.

Rose smoothed her lady's hair and said, "God takes notice of your suffering and promises that it is for a reason, and that someday you will be without pains."

She meant it to be comforting. She honestly thought it would put her lady's mind at ease. For what could be more comforting than God? But it made Winry stiffen. _Without pains._ What a dreadful way to phrase that. Winry thought with horror of what the underlying meaning of that was. Death. When she finally died, she would be without pain.

Was that all she had to hope for?

Rose left her room, taking the tea cart with her, leaving Winry to sit and stare at her reflection, a cup of cool tea clasped in her cold hands.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean Papa is at the hospital?" Winry squeaked in disbelief.<p>

Her mother sighed, anxious and irritated that her silent fretting had been interrupted. "Your father went there late last night. There was an emergency, he said." Sara Rockbell paced in the foyer, her hand pressed to her lips.

She was not telling Winry something. "But why is he _not home?"_ She had also noticed another absence. Edward Elric also was not present.

Sara ceased her pacing and looked at her daughter, a war in her clear eyes. Her mother was always like an open book, a trait she passed onto her child. Mrs. Rockbell pursed her lips, and then finally answered. "The boy who drove him there was hurt. A group of men attacked them."

Winry was thrown through a loop at her mother's bluntness. She was shocked at the straight answer; it was one of the first few she'd ever received from either of her parents. _The boy?_ Finally it clicked. "Edward!" She whispered, eyes wide with shock. He was hurt? How terrible!

Her mother nodded, saying nothing.

"What happened?" Winry pressed, concern for the servant boy in her eyes and dulcet voice. "Is he alright?" She fretted, picturing gruesome wounds and broken bones.

"Why don't you ask him, Winry?"

It was her father's voice.

Winry whirled, mildly chagrinned that she had missed the opening of the door and entrance of her father. He looked tired but well, dark circles under his eyes and a gentle smile on his face. His white suit was dirty and torn, and his fedora dangled from his hand. He didn't look hurt in the least. Winry allowed herself to feel relief at that.

A familiar boy staggered over the threshold, using Dr. Rockbell's help to get over the final stair. A bandage was splayed across his forehead and he leaned heavily on a crutch under his left arm. Winry's eyes roved over his bruised face, clasping her hand to her heart as horror stirred in her chest. His face was taut with concealed pain, and he favored his right leg as if it were broken.

Winry's eyes swam with unsolicited tears, her fingers brushing her parted lips. What in God's name happened? Who could do such a thing? She was so shocked at the boy's injuries she hadn't seen her parents embrace and share whispers. If she wanted to learn anything about what had occurred, it would have been in her best interest to listen in on their hushed words. But she couldn't tear her eyes away from Edward's bruised face. His eye was blackened as well, which made her notice he was staring at the floor.

"But, Urey, dear, I thought you were working on – "

"I still am, I swear it! But for now, don't you think..."

"Yes... Of course... If you're sure..."

Her parents' words drifted into her consciousness, slipping through her haze of concern and grief over their servant's injuries. She looked up, confused. They didn't seem to be retelling of any events of the night prior, which was what she would assume they would be doing... "Papa, mama..." She addressed them hesitantly. She was suspicious. "What are you talking about?" She made no attempt to conceal the wariness in her voice.

Her parents turned to face her and Edward equally, looking mildly guilty. Edward had raised his gaze from the carpets and was also watching the master inquisitively. He must have heard more of the conversation than she had, she realized.

"Sir?" He asked quietly.

Urey suddenly smiled and stepped forward importantly. "Well, Edward I wished to make you an offer... But I suppose Winry deserves a say as well..."

The two of them immediately tensed, confused but expecting the worst. "And that would be...?" Edward prompted with a grimace.

Urey's blue eyes flicked from his daughter to the servant significantly. Then his eyes rested on Edward. "You have proved yourself a worthy man, and have earned my trust. And I want you to be my daughter's official escort." He paused. "Starting after you've healed, of course."

There was a long silence where the two adolescents stared at the man blankly.

"Huh?" They chorused.

The two of them shared a look silently, both startled by both Dr. Rockbell's proposition and by the sudden synchronicity the two of them had just experienced. Urey stood there smiling, beaming at them proudly as if he were congratulating himself for devising this arrangement. His wife, Sara, stood slightly behind him with her fingers pressed to her lips, looking gentle and agreeable, if not amused.

Edward however was not amused. Had the doctor lost his mind? Taken a hit to the head during the fight? Started frequenting an opium den? Surely he could _not_ be serious. Trusting him to his own daughter? A slave, no less? And he would rather muck stalls than be some pompous, spoiled girl's chamber maid... He shooed that thought away, knowing it likely wasn't true in the least. But as he looked sideways at Winry, he internally cursed the master's illogical decision.

Winry was mystified to say the least. Her headache had come back in fierce, and she just couldn't puzzle out her father's reasoning for giving her an unneeded servant. A _boy_ at that. Wasn't that just the epitome of improper? She glanced at Edward Elric from the corner of her eye, her pale face flushing despite her pounding cranium. Even beaten and bruised, he was still incredibly handsome. She recalled her first meeting with him, wondering exactly what kind of person he was. The vulnerable boy on the stairs, or the cold young man in the stables?

Winry noticed the silence had stretched on for far too long; her father was waiting for a reaction. Puzzling over what to say, she finally blurted, "But what about Rose, Father?" Surely he didn't expect Edward Elric to help her lace up her dresses and fold her undergarments.

Urey went on smiling, apparently having already thought that out as well. "Rose will attend to your needs in the bedchambers, while Edward will be your escort should you go out. Don't you understand, love? This will grant you more freedom since Rose has other duties as well, and I trust Edward to keep an eye on you." He dropped a wink Edward's way, leaving him stunned.

Winry looked dizzy. She swayed on her feet, eyes slightly faraway. Edward watched her with concern, wondering if this was enough to make the delicate girl faint. She'd already proved herself of weak health, which set him on edge. And in the state he was in currently, he had no hope of catching her should she fall.

But, amazingly, she collected herself. She met Edward's eyes suddenly, her sapphire orbs questioning and unsure. Her hair framed her face in straight locks, flowing freely behind her today. It was even longer than he'd originally thought. He was curious as to whether or not it was as soft as he'd originally thought, since he had already been wrong once, and wished for a moment to find out. He blinked, and looked away stiffly.

He met Urey's eyes, earning a wide smile from the man. He took a deep breath, summoning his will to get the words to form, and said, "I accept."

* * *

><p>Edward was sentenced to a week of bed rest, and he was <em>not<em> pleased with this order. The room was unfamiliar; an empty guest room on the first level of the manor. There were dozens of empty rooms in this damn house. The bed on which he sat was by far the most comfortable object he had ever been allowed to touch. Cushions surrounded him in a cushy embrace. His leg was propped on pillows and forced into immobilization as if it would speed the healing process. But all it was accomplishing was giving him pins and needles in his foot.

Despite the softness of the bed and the cushions and overall warmth of the room, he could not seem to rest. His body ached more than he would like to admit, hindering him from much-needed sleep. The winter curtains over the sole window left the room dim enough for slumber, but Ed could not seem to quiet his mind enough for it.

His thoughts whirled about his skull, making him dizzy. He remembered the night before; or tried to at least. He couldn't remember much about what exactly had occurred, rather his memories of it were predominantly the feelings that had coursed him so vitally. It stirred another side of him that had become unfamiliar over the time it had spent dormant. It was unidentifiable at the time, and he could not seem to puzzle it out no matter how long he pondered it.

His thoughts were also spinning around the master's daughter, strangely enough. _She_ stirred something in him that he'd rather not get into. Mostly because he was just about as close to identifying exactly what _that_ was as man was to touching the moon. Edward was, other than by distracted by his curiosity of the girl, very concerned about the task which he had been given.

The master had not said it directly, but he had virtually charged Edward with his daughter's _protection._ A task that could make any boy of sixteen nervous.

This whole dilemma made him even more troubled about the illness that weakened the young lady. She was very obviously ill, incurably so. How would he protect her from that, he wondered? How could he protect her _at all, _in fact?

He had been incapable of even protecting his little brother.

His troubled mind in a state of unrest, he attempted to distract himself by gazing about the room. Unlike the rest of the house; which was all a shade of blue and white, it was a warm yellow. Out of place in the cold wintery months encasing them. For winter, however, black accents seemed to have been added, contrasting radically with the warm décor. The curtains were black to retain heat, as well as various pillows and rugs which had become strewn about in the short amount of time Ed had been occupying it. There was an odd pattern on the golden wallpaper, like lighter yellow spirals that seemed almost floral. There was a name for it, he knew it, it was on the tip of his tongue. But it didn't come to him.

A light, hesitant tap came from the other side of the oak door. A servant, most likely.

Edward cleared his throat. "Yes?" He called, his voice hoarse and scratchy. He winced at the sound.

The door eased open, and at first no one appeared. Then a coffee-skinned girl rolled through the doorway in a shiny metal contraption, tugging a rolling cart behind her with difficulty.

Recognizing the handicapped girl as the maid called Paninya, Ed made to leave the bed to help her. Pain shot through his entire body, and he grimaced with a hiss.

Paninya tsked at him. "Now, now, you stay there and I'll come to you." She grinned as Ed settled back into the pillows, his mouth a taut line of concealed pain. "Wow, you're as beat up as they said you were." She told him in her American accent.

Edward scowled at her.

Paninya chuckled good naturedly and wheeled the cart to his bedside, as well as herself. Edward eyed the tray full of food with gratitude, inhaling the smell of fried bacon and eggs deliriously, but shot a glare at the glass of disgusting white liquid that accompanied the welcome breakfast.

Oh, how he hated milk.

Paninya glanced around the room, wheeling away from Edward's bedside to give him some room. She gave a 'hmm' and said, "Not the same color as my room. This one's nicer." She shot Ed a grin. "We're neighbors, by the way!" She told him laughingly.

Edward, who had already wolfed down two strips of bacon, paused with his fork with a bite of egg on it half way to his mouth. "You live in the manor, not in the servant's quarters?" He questioned. Then he smacked himself. Of _course_, she didn't, she was in a wheelchair. Doctor Rockbell wouldn't stand for it.

But Paninya shook her head and smiled. "Nope. Lucky me!" She laughed.

Ed scowled and shoveled the eggs into his mouth.

"Hey! Are you bored?" Paninya said suddenly, her volume anything but low.

Ed nearly choked on his fork. He stared at her, confused. "Um," He began intelligently, "...I...guess..." He answered hesitantly.

Paninya grinned widely. "Well, can't have that!" She declared. She maneuvered her wheelchair to face him straight on from the foot of the bed. She studied him briefly. "You look like a reader." She seemed to concluded. "I can fetch some books for you." She offered with a smile.

Edward stared at her blankly for a moment. He looked like a reader? ...Sure, he had read with Alphonse before his house burned down and took all the books with it, but he hadn't been allowed to pick up a novel in his entire time in the master's brother's house. Slaves didn't deserve to be educated, and obviously did not require books. Then he shrugged and swallowed - it took immense amounts of self-control not to just speak around the food – and said, "I would appreciate that."

When Paninya left the room – leaving the door open behind her – Edward realized he'd never noticed there was a library in the manor. "Hmm," he hummed, going back to his food.

* * *

><p>Winry spent most of her day inside – it had begun to rain in torrents again. Her father was sleeping, which was to be expected after working a full day, then a full night without rest. Her mother had gone to the hospital alone to attend to patients today, leaving Winry rather bored and lonely. Her plan had initially been to go into the market to shop for gifts for her mother, father, her few friends, and some of the staff.<p>

She knew what she wanted to get her parents, but there were many of the servant's gifts she wasn't sure about. Rose was easy; she would love anything with a cross on it. Paninya was tricky, as was Russell, the kitchen boy. Fletcher, Russell's little brother, was easy. If the boy loved anything, it was either plants or trains. And the stable boys, Rick and Leo too...

Somewhere around lunch time Winry wandered up to the attic, her faithful dog following along beside her. The place was dusty, covered in cobwebs, and positively cluttered with things that had been deemed useless. An ornately framed full length mirror, an armoire filled with moth-eaten coats, trunks of clothing, old broken things. But it was quiet and there was no chance she would be interrupted.

Maneuvering through the mess was second nature, and she found her spot almost immediately. She brushed off the cushioned stool and took the seat in front of the desk that had been in the same spot for years. It was the only space that was dust free, for Winry frequented it often. Den settled next to her on the floor, already familiar with the routine. A pair of work gloves were slid over her pale hands, industrial leather and well broken-in from use. She brought her latest project to the center of the table: a small wind-up mishmash of gears and spikes. She reached for a fine flat-head screwdriver and went to work.

* * *

><p>A couple days had passed, and Edward felt like he was becoming <em>one<em> with the bed. He felt heavy and lazy, and eventually found he did not _want_ to get up. Paninya brought him books galore, stacks were piled high on either side of his bed. Others brought him meals three times daily, a new one each time. They were likely curious volunteers who wanted to sneak a peek at the new favorite of the master, wounded and confined to bed rest. It was slowly driving him insane. He had never realized that he was _used_ to working, it had been a part of his life for what felt like forever. Now, sitting in bed and inert, he itched to do something. Anything.

The books were boring him. The walls had ceased to distract him. And there was absolutely _nothing_ to do.

He finally came to the decision to take a walk. It would allow him to test how his leg was recovering, in a rather unorthodox way that is. And if he remained immobile for much longer, he was sure to turn into a vegetable. Resolute, he threw blankets and cushions out of his way, casting them to the floor carelessly. Cautiously he brought his feet over to the side of the bed... and let his feet touch the floor.

He groaned at the pain of moving his leg and pulling at the healing skin. But he wouldn't let that beat him – not so early in the game! He shimmied forward, a grimace on his face. Suddenly he lurched forward, no longer touching the bed in any way. He stood, on his own two feet, finally. His sense of victory was short lived, however, for pain spiked through his thigh as a stitch popped.

He saw the blood in the mirror first, bleeding through the bandages peeping from beneath his shorts. Some part of his mind also gathered other inconsequential facts as well: his hair was messy and needed washing, his button-up shirt was wrinkled and needed to be changed, and the cut on his forehead above his right eyebrow had scarred.

He stared at it for a moment, as if he hadn't quite grasped _what_ the blood and pain meant. Then it clicked and he scrambled for the door, limping awkwardly as he tried to keep his leg straight. The blood trickled over his knee and down his shin, leaving drips on the carpet, making him curse. He threw his weight at the door, fumbling with the door knob, suddenly incapable of deciding which way it was supposed to turn. Finally he threw it open, bracing his hands on either side of the door frame, intending to get the attention of a passing servant for them to fetch Doctor Rockbell.

But someone already stood there, a few steps away from his door, with a silver tray with a tea set carried on it.

He blinked, taking in the person's face. This was no servant. It was Miss Winry, the doctor's daughter.

Why on Earth was she _bringing him tea?_

Her dress was a pale green and, strangely enough, she wore a white apron over her skirt. She blinked her blue eyes at him curiously, her lips parted to say something. Edward blinked back at her, suddenly speechless. The silence stretched as blood continued to trickle from Edward's wound and onto the carpet.

He noticed the girl's eyes suddenly flick down, seeing the blood pooling on the carpet for the first time. She nearly dropped the tray she held. "Oh, my goodness!" She cried like the proper girl she was. "You're bleeding!"

Ed blinked, looked down at his feet, and raised his eyebrows. Yes, yes he was.

Miss Winry discarded her tray on a table decorating the hallway with a clatter, pushing the vase that stood on it to the side without care. She turned back to him and met his disorientated eyes with her own. Then she did something that froze him to the spot.

She dropped to her knees in front of him.

Edward's eyes popped out of their sockets as she examined his bandages from her position on the floor. Any thoughts he may or may not have had in his head had promptly fled, out the window, gone, bye-bye. Some sense returned to him and he looked up and down the hallway frantically, praying none of the staff would decide to stroll by at that moment. _Oh my god, if anyone passes by and sees this, they will **so** get the wrong idea..._ Kind of like the wrong idea Ed was having at this time.

His wide-eyed gaze slowly returned to the girl examining his thigh, his mouth in a wide, quavering frown. He gulped nervously.

"What did you do? Pop a stitch?" She whispered admonishingly, leaning away from him. She wasn't touching him at all, a fact which Ed was immensely grateful for.

"Ah – yeah – I mean, yes." He stuttered, his voice cracking embarrassingly halfway through his response. He was extremely uncomfortable with her down there – so incredibly uncomfortable – he prayed to whatever deity was up there that she would stand up before someone happened by their damning position. He would surely have a heart attack and just die – right there in the hallway.

At least that way he could avoid further embarrassment.

The Gods must have been smiling upon him that day, for Miss Winry got to her feet before anyone spotted them in the hallway. Ed expelled a great breath of relief. But then she ducked under his arm, into the room, so quickly he missed it. Soon he was being tugged through the doorway and was forced to settle on the bed. He stared at the frail girl in shock. She moved quickly.

"Wait here! I'll fetch my father." She said determinedly. Then she spun about and flitted out the door with a flicker of skirts.

Leaving Edward blinking his golden eyes after her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: *headdesk* Finally...my research paper is done... I'm sorry this update took WAY to long, but feel free to blame it on my English teacher. Or you could place the blame on me...because technically I _am_ the one who's terrible at the whole 'multitasking' thing. I can barely walk and chew gum at the same damn time.**

**Anyways: Yep! The moment you've ALL been waiting for! I did it! I took the simple, unoriginal, already-been-done path and did what everyone was suspecting I would do~ xD Ed is now Winry's personal servant! Who'da thunk?**

**So Rain got a poor review and took it to heart and worried if she is boring you all. Am I? Q_Q**

**Either way, I'm gonna try like heck to make a Christmas geared chapter in time for... well, Christmas. =D I discovered it would work when I remembered it was cold last chapter and I could make it like December, cuz that would just be totally awesome. Oh mah gawd, I need to update faster if I want to do it though! Dx I'm so sorry for being so slow!**

**Added later: Soooo, yeah. My computer zonked. Crashed. And burned. Went belly up. Decided to take a dirt nap. So this chapter is a few weeks later than I initially intended. Which sucks, because it was freaking late to begin with. I got a nasty virus that just K-I-L-L-E-D my poor stupid PC. It was hiding in my internet temp files and stupid Norton missed it about a million times. Gotta stop looking up that porn, ya know?... xD**

**With far too many Christmas cookies I can possibly eat,**

**-Rain**

**Disclaimer: The characters of Fullmetal Alchemist are the work of Hiromu Arakawa. But remember, if you steal this and post this as your own, you will die. ^^**

**Oh! And, also, in the spirit of giving this year, I wanted to ask you guys to check out freerice . com and participate in the charity. All you have to do is answer questions in your choice of category and ten grains of rice are donated to the hungry for each correct answer. You don't have to make an account or pay or anything like that, it's just a little quiz game. Please, if you have the time, do check it out! ^^ **


	9. Esto quod est

**Esto quod est - Be what you are**

* * *

><p>"When I said bed rest, I meant bed rest."<p>

Edward sat on his bed with a grimace on his face. His frown was mildly lopsided and his right eyebrow twitched in time with spikes of irritation levels. Urey was bent over his leg with a needle and thread while he chewed the boy out for popping the stitches in the first place. And whenever the doctor felt that the boy wasn't listening, he would prick a bit too hard with his needle.

The worst part of it all was the master's daughter, who stood in the room silently; merely watching.

It was driving Ed up the wall. He _knew_ she was standing there, could _feel_ her eyes on him, and he could sense the concern and curiosity just _radiating _off of her. But he refused to make eye contact. Or look in her direction. Or acknowledge her very existence in the universe.

Edward Elric was most definitely _not_ embarrassed. The mere notion was utterly ridiculous.

He just didn't want to look at her was all. What was wrong with that? Sometimes someone just doesn't want to look at a person standing in their room, gawking at them while a needle was jabbed into their skin repeatedly. But there she stood, with her big blue eyes and out-of-place apron, staring at him. He wondered mildly if she wore those brown boots as well, if only to confuse him further. But he wouldn't check to see, because that would involve looking at her.

"If you plan on healing any time soon, I suggest you stay put and drink some of that damn milk you're always wasting." The doctor went on preaching as he did up the final stitch. Apparently he'd noticed all the full milk glasses that had been sent back from Ed's room.

Edward's frown grew in intensity. All he wanted was to be _alone_, in the boring quiet of his empty room with no one nagging him like a bloody _nanny!_ Not to mention the girl who stared at him to leave. Better to wallow in his own boredom _alone._

Now the doctor was done stitching, and bit the thread to break it. He dropped the needle with the remaining length of thread into a little glass bowl, where it made a light tinkling sound. Likely to be disinfected or disposed of later. Dr. Urey sighed and pushed away from Edward, but did not get off the floor.

Master Rockbell hooked a finger at him. "Inch forward a bit, boy." The doctor reached for a roll of gauze and a soft pad of cotton.

Ed did as he was told, letting the doctor place the pad directly over the stitched-up wound and begin winding gauze around his leg. It was a long and boring process, the doctor having to reach under the boy's leg to wind it around again.

Edward's eyes wandered away in his boredom. Against his volition, his eyes found themselves meeting Winry's gaze. He gave a little start at the sight of her watery blue eyes, shining with unshed tears. His own gold eyes grew wide as floundered. What the heck was she crying for?

Winry felt a little thrill go through her when she saw a glimpse of emotion in her servant's eyes. She had been dying to see him without his expressionless mask. She let her eyes roam over his face, noting the planes of his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw... But her gaze kept being pulled back to his eyes.

Urey finished with the bandage, going unnoticed by the two. Without warning, Urey smacked Edward's leg and stood up with a chuckle as Ed choked on a scream, clutching his thigh in agony. Urey grinned at the boy and said, "Alright, old bean. Just rest and drink your milk. If I have to stitch you up again, it won't be pretty." With the cheerful threat the doctor quit the room, leaving his daughter blinking after him in shock.

Edward barely heard him. The poor boy was too busy trying not to burst into tears.

Suddenly Urey poked his head back into the room. "Oh, Winry dear, what are you doing here exactly?" He asked without preamble.

Winry gasped. "The tea's gone cold!" She cried, and rushed out of the room.

Edward watched her vanish as the pain subsided. Finally able to respond correctly, he glared in rage at the doctor. "Why you!"

But Urey only grinned and flicked his hand in an amiable salute. Then he ducked out of the room.

* * *

><p>Winry dashed out of the kitchen, balancing the silver tea tray with expert care. The empty cup clinked lightly against the saucer, prompting her to move more slowly. She had the tea all set properly and orderly and was dead set on not messing it up. She navigated the halls with a flush on her cheeks and a hop to her step.<p>

She felt well today, and the blessing brought a smile to her face, and the relief of all who knew her. It was these days of health, which had been so few and far between as of late, that allowed Winry to keep going.

But what a day for Rose to get sick! It was funny really, now it was Winry tending to her, instead of the other way around. With her sudden onslaught of happy energy, Winry had bothered Paninya until the crippled girl allowed her to don an apron and help out while Rose was resting.

It had just been a coincidence that whilst Winry was dawdling in the kitchen that Russel, the arrogant blonde haired kitchen boy, had announced that the injured Edward Elric would likely appreciate tea and company. Winry also had _nothing_ to do with the sudden disappearance of the tea tray meant for Edward.

Well...perhaps it wasn't _that much_ of a coincidence.

But what had been a coincidence was that she had come at the exact moment the butler decided to injure himself... Again.

Winry smiled at the door to Edward's room and managed to prop the tray on her hip to turn the handle. She peeked her head in nervously, smiling sheepishly. Edward was leaned back against the pillows with his leg propped up again, a book on his lap and his cheek leaned against his fist. At her unannounced entry, he blinked and looked up.

Something in his expression must have tipped her off that she had made a mistake. "Oh," She mumbled nervously. Then she rapped on the door frame with her free hand twice. "Sorry. Mind if I come in?" She asked sweetly.

Ed blinked at the silver tray propped on her hip, noting the steaming teapot and array of some kind of treats. He swallowed and placed his book onto a stack of others. "Y-yes, feel free." He muttered. He still couldn't believe she was bringing him _tea._

Winry's answering smile was brilliant as she slid into the room and closed the door softly behind her. She took her tray in both hands and set it on the bedside table not currently occupied by towering stacks of books. She grinned at Edward's suspicious expression. "Tea?" She asked, flipping the cup right side up on the saucer and placing the small strainer over it. At his nod, she took the teapot and poured him a cup. "Milk or sugar?" She asked, already feeling she knew the answer.

"No milk. Two lumps of sugar is fine."

She smiled at her correct assumption and dropped two cubes into the hot drink. She handed him the cup and saucer, which he took into his hands automatically. In the passing of the object, their fingers brushed. Winry felt a little thrill of electricity go through her, increasing her heart rate and heating her cheeks. She jerked her hand away with unnecessary force.

"T-thank you."

Winry looked up, suddenly feeling rude. "I'm sorry! Um...I mean, you're welcome!" She abruptly felt awkward, and at a loss for words. Where had her mannerisms and charm fled to? Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Edward stared at the walls while sipping his tea. It didn't bother him that her fingers were as soft as velvet or that when her face pinked like that he wanted to kiss her. Or that she smelled sweetly of vanilla and roses, nearly making his head spin from the wondrousness of the scent. No, didn't bother him at all. Water on glass, that's what it was. Slid right off. He cleared his throat.

Winry glanced at the tray for a distraction, and recalled the extra thing she had brought with her. "Oh!" She cried. She lifted the item for Edward's inspection. "Are you bored?" She asked innocently, a silent offer behind her words. The object was a wooden box with alternating white and black squares painted on its surface, a box that was meant to be opened and unfolded into a chess board. The pieces rattled loosely inside.

Edward studied the box and the smiling girl dumbly, momentarily at a loss for words. "Um...alright." He mumbled.

Delighted, Winry set the box onto the bed and dragged a chair to his bedside. She sat down, fixing her skirt properly, and got right to setting the board. Edward's own hands would occasionally drift up to help set the pieces correctly, but Winry noticed he was very deliberately avoiding touching her own fingers again. Even when the last pawn remained, the two of them reached for it at the same moment, but he retracted his hand quickly as if he'd been electrocuted.

Winry took a pawn of each color into each of her hands, and reached her hands behind her back, swapping them from hand to hand until there was no way for Edward to guess which color was in which. It was an old ritual she and her father did to decide who went first.

Edward looked on in confusion as she then held out her closed fists to him. Baffled but curious, he pointed to her right hand. She turned it and opened her fingers, like blooming petals, revealing the black pawn. Edward's mouth set in a grimace as she replaced the pawns and turned the board so the black pieces were the ones lined up in front of him, while the white pieces were on her side.

As she moved her first pawn two spaces forward she dared to glance at Edward through her lashes. "How are you feeling?" She asked, not just polite, but honestly concerned.

Edward gave a rather undignified snort and moved his knight over the line of pawns. "I'd be better if that blasted doctor would – " He shut up abruptly, realizing that not only was he about to badmouth the master of the household, but he was about to do so in front of the man's daughter.

Shockingly, the girl laughed, her hand hovering over her mouth as peals of amused giggles poured from her lips.

Edward blinked, tense.

Winry brushed her fingers under her eye, as if her laughter had brought on tears. "I understand completely! I've seen the way he treats you – he takes his jokes way too far even in the best situations. I'm sorry he's so incorrigible." Her eyes shown with laughter and a few giggles escaped her even afterwards. She moved another pawn.

Ed grimaced. "No kidding. The man's mad, surely." He arranged a pawn to let out one of his bishops and threaten Winry's advancing pawns. But secretly he was grateful; for the doctor and his daughter. Not that he would ever admit it.

Winry countered with her white knight. "Not mad...I _think._ Just eccentric." She muttered, thinking of her father's abrupt and irrational appointment of Edward as her personal servant. She sighed internally just thinking about it; did the man ever think things through?

Ed moved his bishop onto the playing field, really only half-concentrating on the game. He was rather occupied staring at his opponent's face. He was asking himself a rather dangerous question... _Does she know?_

He had decided that Urey had told his wife. It made the most sense. Had either of them confided in their daughter? Surely if they had, she would have judged him by now. He looked at the tea tray then down at the chess game on the bed beside where he lay.

No. She didn't know he was a slave.

Edward reached over and helped himself to one of the sweets that she had brought with the tea: a little chocolate truffle decorated with stripes of white chocolate. He popped the sweet thing into his mouth and moved his bishop in response to Winry's readying for the launch of her rook. While he chewed, he thought of questions he could ask her. It wasn't likely they would be alone in such a private environment for long, and there were things he wanted to know.

Winry reluctantly abandoned her rook plan, and threatened Edward's bishop with her knight instead with a bit of a pout.

Edward watched her carefully, wondering if he was allowing to silence between them to stretch on too long, or if he should let it stretch a little longer. After retracting his bishop, he finally gathered his nerve.

"...Miss Winry?" He murmured, catching her attention. Never before had he said her name, but it felt so natural on his tongue, as if he had been saying it for years. If only he wasn't forced to use that damn honorific.

Winry looked up at him and met his eyes. They were guarded, hesitant. She frowned and tilted her head. "Yes?"

Ed had to gather his nerves again before responding. "Please pardon me if this is too blunt of me... But..." He broke off, biting his lips, suddenly unsure of how to phrase his question.

Understanding bloomed in her blue eyes and she dropped her gaze, smiling sadly down at her folded hands which rested in her lap. She took a breath before saying, "You want to know what illness plagues me?"

Ed wavered, wary of what her answer would be. And for her to know what he would ask so quickly... She had been asked the same question countless times. And it hurt her to have to answer each time. Edward swallowed. "If you don't want to tell me I will understand, mistress."

Winry raised her head, the somber smile still in place. "Just Winry is fine." She told him honestly.

Edward nodded. "So long as just Edward is fine with you." he propositioned.

Winry smiled; an honest smile of acceptance. "Of course." She bravely moved her rook from its corner.

Ed nodded, trying to mask his disappointment. He moved his far pawn forward.

"Anemia and Immunodeficiency."

Edward looked up sharply. What had she said? "Sorry?" He asked incredulously.

Winry smiled gently. "My illnesses." She told him as she threw her rook headlong onto the playing field.

Ed didn't notice. "Anemia...? And Immunodeficiency...?" He wondered aloud. He wasn't all that familiar with the words, but parts of them he could understand. A cold feeling began to rise in his chest.

Winry shrugged. "It's not that bad, really. My anemia began showing around the time I turned thirteen. It gives me headaches and makes me dizzy." she explained as she stared at the chess board intently, as if memorizing the position of each piece.

"When you don't eat." He realized slowly. She nodded. "What about the other one?" he asked with interest.

She looked up. "Immunodeficiency? When I was six I contracted pneumonia. When I came out of it Papa said my immune system was weakened extensively. I catch sicknesses very easily." She shrugged and dropped her gaze once more. "It's a bother... But I could have it much worse." She mumbled, thinking of the patients at her father's hospital, as well as Mrs. Izumi.

Edward was silent for a long moment. Winry did not raise her eyes to him for a full minute. His thoughts were whirling. This girl lived in excessive pain and suffered through illness after illness because her body could not fight it off, and yet she retained her sunny demeanor. And how ironic; being the prized only daughter of two renowned doctors and forever sickly.

"Why don't your parents do something?" He blurted.

Now it was her turn to look up sharply. She looked at him incredulously. "They're chronic diseases. There's no treatment – "

"Still! They should be able to do _something."_ He insisted. He didn't realize until after her face fell how rude he was being.

"They tried."

Ed winced. He'd really done it now. He leaned forward and tried to catch her attention again. "Mi – Winry, I apologize. That was out of line."

Winry shook her head and smiled down at her lap. "No. It's fine." Finally she raised her head. "I believe it's your turn."

Winry winced as she watched his eyes go blank. Gah, that hurt. Seeing him close himself off like that. She was sort of jealous. She couldn't do that no matter how hard she tried. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife it was so thick as Edward took her pawn with his bishop.

Her knight took his bishop.

She watched him frown deeply. He deployed his rook and tried to corner her knight. She swiftly covered the knight with her own rook; he would have no chance to take it unless he wanted his own rook taken. To Winry's fascination, his frown deepened further.

The quiet was slowly driving her crazy. Without thinking she blurted, "Do you have any family nearby?" It was a perfectly normal question. Most of the staff took leave during the holidays to spend them with their loved ones.

There was a fractional tightening of Edward's mouth that went almost unnoticed. Almost. "I'm an orphan."

Winry tensed in shock. Then wilted. Well, she ruined any chances of becoming friends with this aloof servant with her thoughtlessness. "Oh..." She murmured lamely. "I'm sorry..." She trailed off, not knowing what to say. Her hands moved automatically and moved a piece forward; she wasn't sure which.

Edward countered with a move of his own, and she responded by taking one of his pawns. A moment of silence passed again and Winry was sure that it would last until the end of her visit. But he surprised her.

"But... I do have a brother." He moved his knight and took her rook unawares.

Winry perked up with interest, glee filling her at his disclosure. Was he opening up to her? Even the most miniscule degree of honesty from him made her want to jump for joy. But she contained her reaction and said excitedly, "Really?"

The corner of Edward's mouth twitched involuntarily. "Yes. But we were separated a while ago." Even while he said it, he felt a twinge of hopeless anger in his chest.

Winry's eyes filled with pity. "What? How?" She asked in despair.

Edward looked away. "I don't want to talk about it." He said with finality.

Winry wilted once more. "Oh." She sighed. She maneuvered her second knight into play. He countered with the taking of another pawn.

"What's he like?" Winry asked hopefully.

Ed met her eyes, then returned his attention to the game. But she swore she saw a faint smile on his face.

"His name is Alphonse, and he's a year younger than me. It was just Al, my mother and myself when we were growing up..."

Winry listened with rapt interest. She couldn't believe the change in her servant. He smiled while he spoke of his younger brother, even while Winry took pawn after pawn. But she wasn't focusing on the game anymore. All she could think of was of the wonderful boy Edward described.

He told her that they would get in fights often, over the stupidest things. Who got the last piece of candy, who got to sleep on the top bunk, even who would live with their mother longer after they grew up. Edward had told her with amusement that Alphonse was the usual victor, but Edward had his way of winning in other battles. He told her of one instance when he had persuaded his brother to chop the firewood while he stayed inside and stirred soup. Winry laughed and asked him to continue every time he paused, entirely caught up in the dream of this adorable boy. She was amazed at Edward as well. The way he described his childhood was incredibly different than she would have expected. What would have caused him to grow up into such a closed off young man? Certainly not the stories he depicted.

But he said that his brother was unfailingly loyal and devoted to everything he did. And had developed an instant love for stray kittens after watching Edward beg his mother to allow them to take care of a cat he'd found.

What he didn't say was how much he missed his brother. Or how much it hurt him to be separated from him. But Winry could tell.

She smiled languorously and scooted her queen out of harm's way. The game had reached its final stages while they talked. With a dreamy little sigh she said, "I'd like to meet him. I'd like that very much."

Edward's mouth twisted into a wry frown. But he said nothing, only moved his rook over a space. "Check." He announced.

Winry frowned and snapped into focus. She examined the board and noticed he had his rook poised to attack and his remaining knight blocking a route of escape. He had depleted her pieces until only her queen, a rook, a bishop, and a handful of pawns remained. The bishops and rook in question were in no position to assist her endangered king. She had, however, managed to take his queen in a moment of weakness.

Then she saw it, her opportunity. She slid her queen across the board and took the rook that threatened her king. It put her in direct line of his king, which had a pawn on either side. One of her own pawns was miraculously in the correct position to take the king should he escape diagonally one way, and the bishop covered the other. Her rook was in the last row, preventing a retreat.

"Checkmate." She declared, mildly surprised she hadn't noticed the marvelous set up earlier.

Edward's jaw dropped. "B-but..." He sputtered and proceeded to search for any retreat or counter attack he could instill on the queen she had overlooked. There was none. She smiled.

"Don't feel bad. I've beaten everyone in the manor with the exception of Papa." She smiled at him and popped a victory truffle into her mouth. It tasted all the more sweeter when earned.

Ed crossed his arms and muttered things under his breath she couldn't hear. She decided to ignore it. With an indignant snort, he flicked his king. It fell and clacked on the board in surrender. He stared at the board, wondering blandly why he hadn't seen such a blatant attack. "I call foul play. I was distracted." He tried in a huff.

Winry only laughed at his childishness. "I was just as distracted. I didn't notice it either."

Grimacing, Ed still thought it was unfair. Surely being crippled counted for something? Did a leg injury hinder a person from playing chess efficiently?

The two of them set to scooping the pieces up and tossing them into the compartment in the board. They clacked loudly, as if each piece was protesting at being thrown about so unceremoniously. Edward lifted the black king to his face and wondered aloud, "Which is your favorite?"

Winry glanced up. "Favorite what?"

"Favorite chess piece."

"Oh, that's easy." Winry snatched one of the white pieces from the mixed up jumble. She held it up and smiled. "The queen."

Edward snorted. Figures. Women.

Winry looked offended. "Oh, well what's _your_ favorite then?"

Ed frowned in thought. He tossed the black king into the pile; the useless leader was likely his least favorite. Instead he drew out another black piece. He held it up. It was a knight.

Winry just smiled a mysterious smile. Without a word she took the black knight from his hand and replaced it with a white one.

The message was clear.

Ed couldn't help but smile.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello again! Again, I apologize for the delay. I'm horrible with timeliness. Just ask my mom, I was even a day late coming into this world. I'm sure I'll be late to my own funeral too. **

**Our mysterious S has gotten herself an official account! Her username is Mystery-Shrouded S, which I feel like I may have contributed to inspiring. LOL**

**Okay, so I was looking at my traffic stats for this month...And got confused. It said I had a total of 645 hits on Paper Lilies...but then only 191 visitors? Needless to say, I dun get it... O^O Does that mean 191 people clicked on Paper Lilies 3 times? I'M CONFUSED. :|**

**I realized about halfway through this chapter that I've portrayed Urey Rockbell...sort of like Maes Hughes... You know, joking at poor Edo's expense, a bit of a goof... But can be serious at times... Not sure how I feel about this. :| Maybe we'll see some more character development in the future. *scribbles notes***

**Kay, so for spoiler (because I've honestly let you guys wait way too long for any of my updates) we'll be meeting the rest of the gang soon! At a guess what! ...A Christmas party! Yep. I went there. Though I actually planned to go there DURING Christmas time, but now it's gonna be late... Please refer to excuses in the previous chapter :D**

**Ugh, this chapter came out...Kind of filler-ish. I meant to show the strengthening relationship between Ed and Winry, but it just kind of came out bland. Sorry. o.o' **

**Stick with me! I'll make it better, I swear! D: **

**Thanks for reading even though this was an absolute fail~**

**Much thanks,**

**-Rain**

**Disclaimer: The characters of Fullmetal Alchemist are the work of Hiromu Arakawa. But remember, if you steal this and post this as your own, you will die. ^^**


	10. Absonus

**A/N: I have absolutely no excuse for the lateness of this update. I am SO sorry for all of the readers who were kept waiting, and I am also regretful that most of them won't come back, having given up on this story. School is in its final stretch, and I'm struggling to keep up. But I still have time to goof off, so I really have no excuse for my lack of writing. Again, I am deeply sorry for procrastinating at everyone else's expense. Hopefully, this will never happen again.**

**I'm sorry that this chapter is far too short to make up for how long I made everyone wait. But I wanted to get it up as soon as possible. It's an especially fluffy chapter; as far as I go for fluff anyways. I'm pathetic, I know. And I'm very, very sorry this is so late! T_T**

**Disclaimer: The characters of Fullmetal Alchemist are the work of Hiromu Arakawa. But remember, if you steal this and post this as your own, you will die. ^^**

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><p><strong>Absonus – Out of tune<strong>

They were finally in December's grasp, its icy fingers sweeping the fallen browned leaves with frost. The sunrises came later in the morning, and the blazing orb sunk beneath the horizon early in the evening. Your breath puffed in the air and the chill would cling to one's clothes for hours after finding shelter from the cold. The air seemed thinner and dryer than it had been, adding to the crispness of the outdoors and the chappedness of your lips.

The rest of the week had passed by without further dilemmas. Edward was now permitted freedom once more... Or, freedom to work he should say. It seemed like the moment he had slid from his bed and onto his feet he had been given chores to do. He said a sad goodbye to his plush golden room and resigned himself to sleeping in the cold servants' barracks for the winter.

He tossed the rumpled sheet into the basket Rose had left on the floor. Rose herself was straightening fresh sheets on the bed and lining up the pillows into a rather methodical pattern. The stack of books had been cleared away and were being put away by Paninya; who hopefully remembered where she'd gotten them. Ed still had no idea where the library in this house was.

Rose straightened a few things, having not looked at him or even offered a greeting since entering the room. Normally, Edward wouldn't care. But for some reason her behavior irked him. She was always so exuberant and polite with everyone else. What was her problem?

Edward ran a hand through his oily hair. He was still in his bedclothes and the need for a bath was driving him crazy. His feet itched and his skin felt sticky, and his bedclothes were clinging to his body somewhat. Overall, he felt nasty. Sighing, he scanned over the room for 'one last time.' The black curtains, the floral swirled wallpaper – _paisley,_ that's what it was called! – the gold bedspread... It had become familiar in the past week, and now he was leaving it for the servant's quarters. Something caught his attention on the edge of his vision, something that didn't belong in the gold and ebony room. He stooped down to pick it up where it lay almost under the bed.

A white chess piece. The knight, precisely.

Ed suppressed a smile.

"You may bathe in the bath commune down the servant's hall." Rose's voice cut through the silence so suddenly he nearly jumped. Rose bent down and rifled around one of her laundry baskets, and drew out a fresh towel and his clothes; clean and folded and mended. Not a blood stain to be seen. He ought to endeavor to wear only black from now on – or maybe red. Did blood show up on red cloth?

Edward stepped forward and accepted the clothes and towel from Rose with a nod, his hand closed around the little wooden knight. Rose noticed he hid something in his palm and tilted her head.

"What is that?" She asked.

Ed frowned and hid the little horse more securely. "Nothing." He said quickly. "Where can I find the bath commune?" He redirected the subject briskly.

Rose barely noticed. She smiled faintly and said, "The one with the big double doors that is not the laundry room or the kitchen or the dry pantry." She said informatively.

Ed resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Thanks." He muttered, his gaze drifting to the door.

Rose noticed. "You may go. I'll handle this." She gave him a genuine smile.

Stunned, he nodded, and quit the room.

* * *

><p>He must have passed the damn 'bath commune' a good five times before trying <em>that<em> particular double door. There was definitely more than a kitchen, pantry, a laundry room, and bath house with double doors, damn it! He hoped Rose didn't make a habit of giving out directions to strangers. If she did, she'd surely been responsible for many, many mishaps involving clueless tourists.

The bath commune did not contain a single tub. It was just a room with cubicles lining the walls with shower heads all around. Ed picked one a good enough distance away from the door and out of the direct line of sight should anyone waltz in. He left the clothes and towel on one of the many tables pressed together in the center of the room. He shed his sticky clothes and tossed them there as well, dropping the white knight on the pile of clean clothes as he did. He was relieved to feel warm water, and the soap felt heaven sent as it cleared away the filth he'd accumulated on his own. His thigh stung a bit, the flesh still a bit sensitive, and his ribs still ached slightly, but the pain was dull in comparison to feeling of stretching his limbs and standing upright for the first time in days.

He took his time, enjoying the hot water, then finally stepped over the raised bit of concrete that kept the water in the open stall to retrieve his towel and clothes. As he pulled his sleeves over his arm, he counted his scars. One, two, three; all from a misplaced whip strike along his arm. Four; one on his side from the fight. Five; one on his left hip that he'd rather not explain. Six; there was a new one above his right eyebrow that he couldn't see. Seven; the bullet wound on his thigh. Then countless more he couldn't see on his back from countless strikes from whatever weapon his old master could find. A whip, a riding crop, a green-wooded willow switch, the stirrups on his riding boots...

Ed sighed and buttoned his shirt then pulled on his trousers. He used to count his scars late at night, when he couldn't sleep. He would do it to torture himself. To remind him of how worthless he was. How pathetic.

But...the sight of them didn't bother him so much now.

With the towel draped over his shoulders and his waistcoat all buttoned and prim, Ed ducked out of the dark bath commune. He had slid the knight into the right pocket of his waist coat; where a pocket watch would usually go. As he wandered through the wide, gray servant's hallway, he wondered what Miss Winry was doing. He hadn't seen her since that day they'd played chess. He knew he shouldn't care, but he couldn't help but wonder.

Urey had poked his head into his room throughout the week; to apply new bandages and disinfectants and scold him for various things; but he hadn't mentioned anything about his daughter's wellbeing or health... In fact, the doctor hadn't mentioned anything pertaining to Miss Winry to Edward at all.

Gah – just Winry. Not Miss Winry. He'd have to work on that.

Ed strolled down the hall rather aimlessly while he toweled his hair distractedly, not all that enthusiastic to get back to work. He found his way to a gray staircase; likely one the chamber maids took. Deciding to explore a bit and try to get a bit of a mental map of the manor going, Ed took the stairs. He popped out of a random nondescript door on the second floor. He looked down either way, seeing nothing but identical halls. The blue carpets stretched out before him, the white walls decorated with a pattern of paintings. Everything looked totally symmetrical, and it gave Edward a headache. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling every couple of yards, dazzling his eyes with refracted light they caused.

The hall was entirely unfamiliar to him. Frowning deeply, he wondered if he should even try, or just backtrack. Deciding that he'd rather not starve to death (while lost in the mazelike halls of the manor; unfound and unheard by any life for miles) he stepped back and began to close the door, intent on going back down the stairs and finding Rose or Cook.

But at that moment the most wonderful sound reached his ears.

His hand froze in its action of closing the door, the creak of hinges abruptly ceasing to allow the sound to be heard unhindered. The music filled the hallway, bathing the immediate area with a soft, dark melody. Notes were struck gently with lithe fingers and sang of years of practice and devotion. The tempo was slow and temperate, soothing and low.

Curiosity drew Edward into the hall without conscious thought. His feet took him down the hallway as the notes of the slow and soft melody grew steadily more urgent and moving. It alternately softened and strengthened as the heartbreaking song continued. Edward found himself trying to identify the melody to no avail; he knew very little about classical music.

But this was beautiful – this music had the power to pull him down the hall mindlessly, searching and searching for its source. Finally he came upon a room; a room that was wide open with grand windows and a polished wood floor. Sheer white curtains covered the windows in a whispery iridescent veil.

And in the center of the room stood a huge, polished black piano. And at this piano...

Sat Miss Winry herself. Her pale fingers brushed over the keys in delicate caresses that made him shiver. Her dark blue skirts danced about her ankles as her feet worked the piano's peddles every so often. Her long blonde hair was pulled up, but left two locks on either side of her face that brushed her shoulders. She faced the piano, away from the door, sitting on a bench cushioned with red upholstery.

Edward stood by the cracked-open door of this grand room where the music poured from. He stood there, enraptured by the loveliness of the tune, and the music grew in volume, strengthening and then waning. Like the moon; he thought. Waxing and waning, growing brighter and stronger, then gradually vanishing.

Suddenly Winry hit a sour note, breaking the stupor Ed had found himself in. She hissed in distaste and tried the bar again, only to hit the sour note again. Scowling, she tried a scale, finding that note was off key.

She muttered something unintelligible under her breath then murmured to herself, "Out of tune..."

Edward blinked to himself, watching Winry stand from the bench and turn in his direction. He didn't have the time to make the decision to either announce himself or hide before she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. She gave a little gasp of surprise and turned towards him.

Ed said the first thing that popped into his head. "That was beautiful." He realized he sounded stupid.

Winry, who had been shocked to see him there, hesitated, then smiled gently. "Oh. Thank you, Edward."

A thrill went though him at the sound of his name on her lips. He tried to ignore how his heart had stuttered and said, "...What was it?"

Winry looked over at the piano before answer. "Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Clair de Lune... Or at least how I play it... My tutor tells me I play it too softly." She admitted in a soft voice.

Ed shook his head. "I thought it was perfect." He said.

Then he instantly regretted it, for Winry's eyes lit up and her cheeks turned a lovely pink. She smiled at him; an honestly pleased and happy smile.

...He didn't like how the look she gave him made him feel. He frowned and turned his head away to hide his sudden blush. "I mean... It was nice." He said, trying to downplay the earlier praise.

Winry's smile faltered only a second. What was that about? He'd just been praising her, now he was... Then she realized something. Something that he would likely wish no one would know or ever infer. She smiled at the shred of his character she had suddenly discovered:

He was shy.

Her smile grew wider and she stifled a giggle at his obviously resistant expression. He was making a fool of himself without even knowing it. "Thank you, Ed. You're very sweet." She told him, enjoying the way he squirmed.

_No, I am not!_ Ed thought with sudden chagrin. He fiddled with his cuffs and looked away stiffly, unsure of how to answer. "I-I must go." He stammered, beginning to flee. "I have work, I'm sure." He tried to make a hasty exit before she stopped him.

"Wait!" _Too late._

Winry's single step echoed in the vast room. "Won't you stay?" She implored him.

Edward frowned. He took a deep, calming breath. Then turned around slightly. "Is there something you need, mistress?" He asked quietly.

He did not turn all the way around to look. So he didn't see Winry's shocked expression, or hear her choked intake of breath. Disappointment and sorrow filled her. Still, he acted like an indentured servant. Even after all the kindness she'd shown him. She scowled, suddenly irritated. He was just being stubborn.

Fine... She could try that too.

Winry crossed her arms defiantly. "Yes, please! I need someone to talk to." She sat herself down on the piano bench with a teasing smile as Edward turned around. She looked at him significantly.

...

Ed blinked. And stared. Winry held his gaze like a challenge, still managing to be the picture of politeness as she baited him. Her blue eyes were steady and unrelenting, but were full of something akin to hopefulness. She wore her emotions plainly, as easy to read as a story book.

He should just go downstairs and help Cook. Stand at his post near the door. Seek out Dr. Rockbell. For some reason, these options seemed...safer than staying in a room alone with Miss Winry.

Alone.

But still she was gazing at him with those deep eyes. His will crumbled.

With a shoulder-dropping sigh he closed his eyes. "Fine." He said resignedly, if not too casually for a slave.

Winry smiled.

Grumbling in his head about stupid girls with pretty eyes, Ed went over to join Winry, leaning against the piano with his hands shoved in his pockets as Winry turned on the bench to face him. She beamed at him happily, and he elected to stare out the window instead.

He'd felt weak and pathetic for a good portion of his life. But Winry made him feel...a different kind of weakness. And it bothered him just as much.

This couldn't end well.

* * *

><p>"Oh. I ought to mention: Mother and I will be attending a small Christmas party come this Saturday." said Winry. She had somehow ended up laying on the piano bench with her head dangling from one end, staring out one window upside-down.<p>

"Ah..." Ed grunted in answer. He had ended up sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning against one of the piano's legs. He glanced inconspicuously over at Winry and snickered. So much for the proper, well-mannered lady she was rumored to be. She was just a silly girl.

Winry squirmed on the bench, turning over so she lay on her stomach now, propping her elbows on the bench and resting her chin on her interlocked fingers. She crossed her ankles in the air, and her skirt fell to her knees. Highly improper. Ladies were not supposed to show their ankles. Her mother would have a hernia for sure. "I was hoping you would accompany me, if you felt well enough." She proposed.

The two of them had likely been talking for hours, simply sitting in the music room. It was like when they played chess that day. The conversation flowed easily between the two; after Winry managed to coax Ed out of that uptight servant mindset. She finally managed to get him to call her by her name; no honorifics. It was a major victory in her book.

Ed fiddled with a strand of his hair, and Winry was once again struck with the want to run her fingers through it. It had been wet when he had wandered in on her practice, and it had dried by now. Not for the first time, she wondered if it would feel as silky as it looked. She scowled, knowing she couldn't just reach over and touch him. That sort of action would be...far too intimate. And she doubted that he would let her touch him, given how guarded he was all the time.

Ed shrugged, the sudden movement bringing her back to the present. "Of course. Isn't that what your father wants? For you to have a personal escort?" He stared straight ahead as he spoke. He had seldom looked over at her as they had talked.

Winry wilted. That hadn't been what she'd meant... Not exactly. "I suppose. Thank you." She dropped her head and rested it on her folded arms, swinging her feet in the air now.

Her voice had seemed a little...downcast just then. Ed braved a peek over at her. She was staring at some spot on the wall or floor; he couldn't tell. Her eyes seemed sad.

He averted his gaze quickly before asking a little hesitantly, "Is piano the only thing you play?"

Winry hummed, returning her gaze to the window. "No. I can play the cello as well."

Ed made an impressed noise. "Do you have a tutor or something?"

"Yeah. Miss Lyra. I've had one ever since I was tall enough to climb onto the piano bench." Winry answered dispassionately.

Ed smirked wryly. "You sound so ecstatic." He mumbled sarcastically. He wondered when it had come to this; having a casual, friendly conversation with his master. When had he become so comfortable around her?

Winry humphed and sat up on the bench, electing to sit upright with her legs crossed in her skirt. She returned to looking at the wall, the window having lost its appeal apparently. "Music isn't...my favorite thing." she admitted.

Ed, now curious, turned to face her while remaining in his position on the floor. "Then what is?" he asked. How could she not love something she was so talented at?

He watched Winry grow tense, her shoulders creeping up to her ears in embarrassment and her eyes trailing to her lap. With fascination, he watched a blush rise in her cheeks and her fingers begin to twiddle nervously.

Oh, now he just had to know.

"Well..." Winry began hesitantly. "it's not very...ladylike."

"Neither am I." Ed said bluntly.

Winry gave a shocked laugh.

"What is then?" Ed prompted, his gaze serious and interested.

Winry's eyes travelled around the room, Ed's sudden interest making her more nervous. And less inclined to answer. "Umm..." She trailed off, looking everywhere but at Ed's penetrating gaze.

Ed continued to stare.

Shyly Winry dithered and avoided all his questions, downright refusing to answer him. She would rather let him imagine it was something nasty that was her favorite hobby; like licking toads or running up and down the halls stark naked while gargling. Anything but confirm out loud she was anything but a proper lady.

"Just tell me!" Ed commanded, now standing and leaning over Winry threateningly.

Winry scooted away from him nervously, her face beat red. "N-No, re-really it's n-not even th-that interest-ting!" she stammered timidly.

Ed leered closer, not giving the poor girl any route of retreat. He tried a more persuasive voice as he tried once more to get her to spill it. "There's no harm in telling me, you know." His voice may have come out a bit lower and smoother than he planned, but it had the intended effect.

At this Winry's eyes snapped to him of their own accord. He was still staring at her. The blush on Winry's face went up to her hairline, her eyes widening impossibly further and she unintentionally met his gaze. The look in his eyes was compelling, and he was so very close. They were separated by mere inches...

Winry gulped convulsively, her heart stuttering in her chest.

She leaned away and squinched her eyes shut, turning her face away. "Fine! I'll tell you, alright?" she cried desperately. He was too close.

Satisfied, Ed straightened up and stared down at her, his arms crossed over his chest. She wanted to curse him for the smug look in his eye, and the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Bastard.

Winry collected herself, her blush reducing itself to a red stain on her cheeks as she fixed her skirts and brushed a hand through her bangs. She stared at the wall with a scowl and finally said, "I study mechanics. Automobiles, engines, anything." she admitted at last. "The thing I want most in the world is to become a mechanic."

The square patches of light filtering through the windows had stretched across the floor as they had talked, and now Edward stood directly in the rectangles of buttery yellow light. It lit his gold hair like fire and made him appear even more golden than he already was. He tilted his head to the side subconsciously, his gaze turning from smug to questioning. The hair framing his face brushed his shoulder, catching the sunlight and shining brilliantly. Winry tried unsuccessfully to tear her eyes away.

"What caused your interest in that?" he asked with faint curiosity.

Winry was relieved. She had feared he would scoff and call her silly. Ask her why on Earth she would be interested in such a ridiculous thing. She had expected worse from him. She smiled gently. "My grandmother." she answered. Her gaze went to her lap. "I miss her." she admitted out of the blue, eyes far off in thought.

Ed frowned, abruptly awkward and feeling a bit guilty. He certainly hadn't meant to make her look so sad. Or bring up her dead grandmother. He coughed awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled uncomfortably.

Winry gave him a sad smile. "It's all right. She's been gone for years. We all miss her. Especially Papa." _Aw, shit, I feel like a prick._ "But it's fine. She calls from time to time."

Full. Effing. Stop.

_Wait...What? _

"W-Wait, you mean she's not dead?" Ed blurted stupidly. He cursed internally at his own idiocy.

Winry looked confused. "Huh...?" Then she realized how what she'd said sounded. She hurriedly backtracked. "Oh, goodness! No, no, my grandmother moved to America when I was eight! She's not dead, I swear!" She said with a nervous giggle, her eyes wide with chagrin.

Ed felt like a high-class moron. "Oh..." He grumbled, retreating within himself to avoid the mortification. If someone burst through the window and shot him in the head, he would be grateful. How embarrassing!

Winry noticed this and quickly scrambled to remedy the situation. They had been talking so easily! She couldn't let it end now! "Well, it's normal you would assume that – after all I phrased it rather...oh, what's the word? Umm, not sadly or tragically..." Her face was heating up, and her voice had become shrill. "Well, anyways, it's natural that it would be your first thought was that I was referring to my dead grandmother – it happens all the time after all – and, well..."

Ed stared down at Winry, his expression growing more and more incredulous, blinking in confusion as she went on. Long gone was the composed young lady, and in her place was a vulnerable girl prone to babbling. She was nervous and embarrassed, reminding Edward of a little girl trying to explain something clearly to her parents in not so many words. She stumbled over her sentences, hardly sounding eloquent at all.

Ed stifled a snicker with a gloved hand, turning his face away.

Winry gasped. "You're laughing? What did I say that was funny?" she demanded, sounding very sharp.

Ed refused to look at her face. Surely he would lose his composure and burst out laughing. He'd never thought his mistress could be so...childish. "N-Nothing." He choked out between stifled snickers.

Winry felt her cheeks flame, unaccustomed to being laughed at. "Why you!" She griped in stifled anger. She wanted to smack him with something. Something heavy. Instead she crossed her arms and glared up at him.

This only made Edward laugh, turning completely around to avoid the sight of her, sitting there all flustered and insulted.

Winry gave an angry wail. "Stop laughing at me, or else!" She threatened uselessly. She couldn't think of anything she would do to punish him if he continued, but she tried in hopes he would take her bluff.

He didn't. Not exactly. He tried his best to sober himself and turn back around, standing up prim and proper with his shoulders square; shoulders that still shook with muffled laughter. He was bathed in that lemony light again and Winry was struck suddenly by something she'd never seen before.

His smile.

She'd never seen him smile with so much abandon. Only smirks and small smiles caught in glimpses. Now he was full on laughing, shoulders trembling and wiping away tears of laughter. It was like his barriers had fallen down, all those meticulously constructed walls against the world, simply gone. The change was astonishing. She was awestruck by it for a moment.

But he was speaking, she realized. She tuned in as soon as she noticed, realizing with chagrin she had missed the beginning.

"—my lady. I just never expected to see you so...anxious." He let the carefully phrased explanation hang in the air for a moment, and then chuckled. "To be honest, you were babbling."

Winry was stunned for a beat. Then she was up in arms again. "I do **not** babble." She insisted cooly with a flick of her blonde hair.

Ed raised a gloved fist up to his mouth and disguised his chuckle as a laugh. "Of course, my lady." He said neutrally.

"Winry." She corrected.

He smiled behind his hand that hovered at his lips. "Winry."

"Winry? Winry, dear? Winry!" came a voice from the hallway, a sound from the outside world finally permeating their safe haven.

A woman peered into the music room as she was about to hurry past it. It was Mrs. Rockbell. Winry's mother doubled back after glimpsing the figures in the music room. She took in the sight of them; Winry sitting on the piano bench with wide blue eyes turned toward the door, and Edward standing at a proper distance with an arm behind his back and a hand hovering by his chin.

Thankfully she hadn't come earlier, when Winry had been sitting on the bench in all manners of improper ways and Ed talking to his 'mistress' in a far too casual manner on the floor.

"Mama?"

Sara Rockbell looked to her daughter and smiled gently. Her wavy blonde hair was pulled back with a simple clip at the nape of her neck; no proper bun today, and her dress was simple and pale blue. Her eyes flickered over to Edward for a split second before settling on Winry again.

It was a glance Edward noticed. He made an effort to stand up straighter and fade into the background again; withdrawing from the world once more.

"Winry, dear, your father and I have been searching for you everywhere! Have you been in here all this time?" said Winry's mother.

Winry blinked. "Oh. Papa's home? I didn't know..." she murmured, sort of dazed. It was strange, her mother bursting in and shattering the atmosphere so suddenly. It left Winry reeling.

Sara frowned. "Yes. Come with me, dear. You're looking pale." She beckoned to Winry with a pale hand.

Winry didn't budge, her hands laying limply in her lap. Slowly her gaze drifted to Edward, glancing at him mutely.

Edward felt the stare like a sting from Mrs. Rockbell. Quickly he put his right hand to his heart and bowed to Winry, indentured servant once more. "Please excuse me, my lady." And without a word of explanation, he left. Mrs. Rockbell moved to let him leave.

Winry stared after him in shock. So many emotions roiled through her, beating against her weak heart relentlessly as she tried to make sense of them. Her eyes shined with sudden tears and she pursed her lips in an attempt to keep them at bay. Had all that progress been shattered by her mother's interruption? How could Edward have reverted so instantly to that sullen, submissive state? He threw up his walls against the world and retreated behind them, closing himself off like a door.

Why did that just break her heart?

Her mother, concerned about her daughter's blank expression, hurried over to her, asking her if she felt unwell or sick. Winry only blinked. Her mother pressed her hand to Winry's forehead, her fingers feeling ice cold. Suddenly everything felt cold. She was freezing.

"You have a fever! How long have you been in this drafty room!" exclaimed her mother.

_I feel fine._ She thought. Or at least she had. Until the second Edward had exited the room.

She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling freezing cold and suddenly dizzy, and let her mother help her to her room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I have officially decided the year: 1892. This means the following things are true: Telephones have been invented and refined into the "Eiffel phone" style I mentioned the Rockbell's owned a few chapters back. Queen Victoria has the throne, her husband (Prince Albert) died 31 years ago and the queen is currently 55 years old. Also, the "New" London Bridge is still intact on the Thames, and the Tower Bridge is currently under construction downstream.**

**That's right. Rain did her homework. **

**This means our main characters were born in 1876... Jeez, ain't that a trip. That's the exact year an American Alexander Graham Bell invented the first telephone. Ha ha! History lesson of the day!**

**Thus I am confronted with when everyone's birthday is. Now, in the manga we know that Ed's birthday was in the year 1899, and the month is somewhere between October, November, December, January or February. We know this because from February 1910 to October 3, 1910 he was still 11 years old. Then more hints in other episodes narrow it down to somewhere in January or February... **

**Okay, I got it. Ed's birthday is February 3rd 1876. (in the fic)**

**And Winry's birthday will be... Well, no one really knows that one... They say random stuff like June 9th and March 29th... So I'm guessing no one knows... Eh, let's go with October 8th 1876. So Ed is older than her by a few months. *counts* 8 months and 5 days to be exact.**

**Whew! *sits down* That hurt. I don't do math well on Saturdays. x_x**

**Thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, and subscribed, and for reading!**

**Much love,**

**-Rain**

**P.S.: Ooh, sudden inspiration! Ed and Al were sold into slavery a year ago, right? Let's make it... October 3, 1891. How's that? ;D**

**P.S.S: Winry's version of Clair de Lune can be found on youtube as "Claro de Luna" by sciotip.**


	11. Fides

**AN: Yeah... I have no excuse... Sorry S. :(**

**But hey... I'm back... o.o;**

**Please don't kill me?**

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><p><em><strong>Fides - Trust<strong>_

Edward retreated swiftly, finding the nondescript servant's stairwell again and taking each step two at a time. He kept his head down and focused on his feet. So, naturally he didn't notice when someone turned the corner he was about to go around, coming from the opposite direction.

So, naturally, he collided with that someone.

And that someone was revealed to be Yoki.

Yoki gave a loud, undignified shriek of protest at being bumped into so unceremoniously. The little man had to catch himself on the banister on the far wall to avoid tumbling. Edward thought he was being a bit overdramatic.

Yoki sputtered and raged at his unidentified attacker, and was soon to realize who exactly was being so careless. He fumed, his pasty face turning an unattractive shade of red. "Well, if it isn't _Elric!_ Finally off bed rest and out to put someone else in the infirmary, are we?" the wiry man demanded.

Edward just looked at the footman. _The manor has a library, _and _an infirmary? Rose's tour-giving skills are deplorable._

Yoki did not wait for a response. "Now, Rose tells me you've been missing all day! Said she sent you off for a much needed bath," he gave Ed a scathing up-and-down look, "which hopefully you've taken advantage of. And then you just didn't return! We don't need slackers in the Rockbell Manor, mister Elric – "

Spurred on by some strange and sudden trigger, Edward dropped his submissive and eloquent manners and stepped around Yoki casually, his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. Sorry."

Yoki gaped in complete and utter shock, then sputtered in rage, "I don't like your _tone! _You disrespectful, arrogant little – "

Ed promptly stopped listening and trotted easily down the stairs. He did not turn back, did not stop to apologize, he just continued walking. But he was horrified. Where had that come from? He was supposed to be a slave; an indentured servant. He should not be mouthing off to his superiors, even if the master held preference for him.

It wasn't like him, to have that spark of defiance. It wasn't like him at all.

Anymore.

Heavens knew it had been beaten out of him. Harshly.

Grimly he hurried through the dull hallways, paying attention to his habits. He removed his hands from his pockets and stood up straighter. He made his face impassive and cleared his mind.

There. Servant once again.

He felt an object in his pocket. It was the white knight chess piece. He'd forgotten to return it to Winry.

* * *

><p>Days had passed since Winry had last seen her favorite servant. She hated calling him that, but what else could she call him? Were they friends now? Could they be called that, even with the strangeness of their relationship? She already knew what her mother thought of her familiar behavior when it pertained to him.<p>

Winry smiled. Her mother was rather comfortable with it, having decided it was Winry's idolizing of the servant who saved her father's life that spurred her into going out of her way to find the boy. Winry had decided not to correct her dear mother.

She had longed to speak to the servant boy after seeing him that first day on the stairs.

Winry, having just recovered from a fever and stomach pains, decided to ask to go out today. The day was cold and snow threatened, but Christmas was right around the corner. She ought to ask her parents if she could just go out on her own, with Edward as her escort. She smiled. Yes, that seemed like a fun idea indeed. Winry flitted down the stairs in slippered feet, mint green skirts aflutter, and tripped lightly over the soft carpets to the door of the study.

Her eyes were drawn, for a moment, to the grain of the wood. It swirled in the center of the door, around a knot. She knew the knot had once been a branch. It was strange to think of the door having once been a large, beautiful tree. A living thing, growing and providing for the community of life around them. Now reduced to a thick plank covering a square hole in the wall.

When she suddenly heard voices.

"Why don't you just _free_ the boy, Urey?"

"It's not that simple. I need the documents, and I want to get to the bottom of this. Parliament has to know of this activity."

"I never liked your brother."

"Yes, dear. I know."

"...You know, mother sent me a letter. She said with all the funds and respect we have now, we qualify for viscountship. She said the pasture and orchards did well this summer, and the mill is still bringing in income as well. How ridiculous."

"If only Queen Victoria would be so kind. Maybe then we could accumulate the resources needed to stop this."

"At last, you're on the same track as me, my dear."

Shocked, Winry catapulted through the door, face pale. There stood the startled owners of the voices; her parents with wide eyes. The girl could only stare at them as she tried to decide what on earth what she had heard meant. Something about their words alarmed her.

Her mother, composing herself, smiled kindly at her daughter. "Winry dear, you startled us. What's got you in such a whirl?"

Winry blinked. Then she asked, "What were you talking about just now, mother?" Her eyes held suspicion, and she used the formal term of 'mother' instead of the usual 'mama.'

She was rewarded with a slight wince from her mother. Then the lady composed herself again and smiled. "Just adult talk, sweet one. Is there something you needed?"

Her father just stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching Winry's face steadily, not anxious like his wife was. _Will she realize it?_

Winry blinked again, and said hesitantly, suspiciously, "Yes... I wanted to go out to the market today... I thought I could ask Edward to take me..."

Her parents shared the briefest of glances. It went almost unnoticed by the confused girl. But her father nodded, his blue eyes steady and affectionate. "Yes. I think that is a fine idea." With a kiss to his wife's cheek, Urey Rockbell went to fetch Edward. She followed his every movement until he was out of sight, mind reeling.

Smiling, her mother approached her and touched her cheek. "Be careful, love." And with that, she brushed passed her, serene and silent save for the whisper of skirts.

Winry hesitated in the door way, staring down at the navy blue carpet. She dared to wonder... _What were they talking about?_ Oh, how she hated secrets. How she hated being left out... With a sigh, she quit the room and closed the door roughly behind her. Calling up her previous cheer, she tried to dredge up a smile as she went up to her room to find proper shoes and her coat.

* * *

><p>Ed hadn't seen hide nor hair of Miss Winry for a few days since the music room. Rose had been attending to the young lady while Ed had been handling Rose's chores. Apparently the girl had caught a fever and was in quite the bout of pain. Ed had caught himself biting the inside of his cheek or tapping his foot over the course of the week for reasons unbeknownst to him.<p>

At least... he'd convinced himself he didn't know.

But now he was searching for his clean gloves and jacket with furious agitation, because the girl who he now served was going out, and he would escort her. Naturally. But damn it all if his gloves had been sucked into some rift and now resided in some other dimension... It certainly seemed that way.

Frantically he buttoned up his jacket over his tailcoat, and scrambled out of his room yanking on a pair of white gloves. Yes – room. Urey had _forgotten_ to mention that during the time Ed was sentenced to bed rest, they had moved the servant's quarters inside the mansion. The master had apparently been planning to move them out of that godforsaken barracks for ages now, and finally finished installing cots into a handful of large industrial rooms with concrete floors and walls. Oh, and Ed didn't have a cot. They forgot to order one. So Urey had laughingly told him he could keep the gold and black room he had recovered in – no one was using it anyway.

These people were blasted crazy.

So Edward hitched one of the carriages with a single Clydesdale, fidgeting with the door and brushing the seats free of invisible dirt or other filth that...likely didn't exist. Expelling a breath, he wondered why he was being so jumpy. It was rather ridiculous.

But when the large front door opened, letting warm air pour out into the cold, Edward glanced up and saw her there with her mother. He found himself fighting a smile as Mrs. Rockbell fussed with her daughter's coat buttons and fur-lined hat. The exasperated expression on Miss Winry's face was hilarious when her mother suddenly rushed back inside and hurried back with a scarf, which she wound around her daughter's neck herself.

Winry finally detangled herself from her fretting mother and wished her good bye. Sara Rockbell gave a desperate look to Edward, who stood by the carriage unmoving the entire time, before allowing herself to be lured back inside by Urey. Winry heaved a happy sigh and lightly tapped down the porch steps. She was bundled up against the winter air in many ruffled skirts that likely concealed thick stockings and fur-lined boots. Her dark blue coat was buttoned tightly against her navy dress and she had white mittens, a hat, and scarf. She also wore a smile that injected Edward with warmth; all the way down to his toes.

"Good morning, Edward!" She chirped happily as Ed bowed with his hand over his heart.

"Morning, Miss Winry." He responded neutrally as he held open the door. She gave him a reproachful look for the honorific, but when he sent a purposeful look toward the window, she noticed her father lingered there, watching them.

"Where to, Miss?" Edward asked as Winry planted her foot on the stair and hoisted herself with a hand from Edward.

She sat down heavily, plopping into the seat and making the carriage rock. Then she smiled at him beatifically. "We've all day! Let's go to Oxford Street!"

Clearly she hadn't been in a carriage lately. But Edward suppressed a sigh and nodded agreeably. "Alright, Miss. I'll alert you when we reach the city limits." Without further ado, Ed shut the door and set the latch. With a quick check of the carriage and horse to be sure everything was in order, Edward hoisted himself onto the driver's bench and snapped the horse into an easy trot.

Oxford Street was purchased and developed a time ago by the Earl of Oxford. When it used to be known for it the entertainers such as bear-baiters and masquerades, it became very known for its shops not long ago. It was also in the heart of London – a good three hour ride. Give or take a few, of course.

By the time they reached the city, Winry was already bored and sore-bottomed. To think they still had a ways to go before they reached Oxford. She could weep from the boredom. But finally she heard a rapping against the where the driver's bench was. She slid the window open and called out to Edward, who called back that they were here.

Happy as a child on Christmas, Winry pressed her hands to the glass and gawked at all the shops they passed as the carriage clip-clopped over the cobble stones. Edward pulled the carriage over at a stable, who ogled the ornate carriage greedily. Edward gave the hand a reprimanding glare and passed the young man a coin before helping Winry out.

Together they wandered the bustling street, Edward following Winry like a shadow. It proved difficult, however, when he realized exactly how _quickly_ she got distracted. They had been observing some baubles at a street vendor's stall when Edward found something and tried to show it to her, only to find the girl gone. He found her only seconds later, with her nose pressed to the window of a small mechanics shop.

It took _a lot_ of persuading to lure her out of there.

When they finally got back on track, Winry set out on her Christmas gift hunting. The girl had an astounding number of friends. Not only did she insist on purchasing each servant a gift, but she had societal friends and acquaintances as well, not to mention a gift for her parents.

A necklace for her music tutor, Lyra. A book for the kitchen boy, Russel, and a model train for his brother, Fletcher... A pair of sweaters for the stable boys. A shawl for the elderly maid, Dante. Rose was getting a particularly lovely cross necklace, decorated with semi-precious stones and woven with almost Celtic designs.

Winry was browsing for a new pair of earrings for her mother when a stall outside distracted her. Poor Ed huffed and followed after her, his arms full of boxes and parcels from her shopping.

"Edward, Edward! Look at this!"

Ed had to shuffle a few packages out of the way to peer over at what Winry was referring to. It was a street stall, one of many, decorated with silk and tassels draped around it. The woman behind the table wore some strange garment Ed had never seen before. Some kind of gown that was completely straight, with a thick cloth wrapped around the middle. The sleeves were long and billowing, and the garment seemed to be altered for cold weather. The woman had almond eyes and olive skin, as well and long, straight black hair that shone with health. She smiled at them from behind her table of goods, all of which seemed to be from some Asian culture. There were scrolls hung on the cloth behind her depicting unfamiliar artwork of some other culture.

"Are you interested in goods from Japan?" The woman spoke in a very thick accent, her tongue tripping over the vowels and consonants as if the way they were put together didn't quite agree with her.

But Winry was fawning over the artifacts with bubbly exuberance. "Oh, wouldn't May just love this? What sort of things to you have? Do you have anything with pandas?"

The woman smiled and said, "Pandas are from China, not Japan, lovely girl."

Winry visibly deflated. "Oh..."

Ed repressed an eye roll.

"However," the woman interjected, "I can make an origami panda."

Winry perked right up. "Oh, could you? I've very much like one." And so the woman went to work, first pulling out a sheet of thin, smooth parchment and drawing very precise lines and coloring exact shapes with black. Ed laid out a cloth to set the packages down on and stretched his arms over his head in relief. Winry watched the woman fold the paper, unfold it, and fold it again while Edward scanned the street.

Finally the woman presented Winry with a three-dimensional paper representation of a black and white panda bear. Winry sucked in a breath and cooed in delight. "Oh, it's perfect!" she took it happily and enclosed it in a box before adding it to one of the bags. She paid the woman fifty pence for it, but wasn't quite through.

"Could you show me how to make one?" She asked with hope in her eyes.

The woman seemed to consider this. "Panda is advanced. How about I show you a _suiren?"_

The girl tilted her head adorably at the foreign word that rolled off the Japanese woman's tongue beautifully. "Soo-ee-ren?" she tried to repeat in the same tongue.

The woman smiled, drawing out a few sheets of parchment that had been dyed pink. "It means _water lily._ It is rather simple; I've been making them since I was a girl."

Winry all but fell over herself agreeing, bending over the table to get closer to the parchment the woman was now instructing her to fold. Edward glanced over, curious what was taking so long, only to find himself distracted by the dip in his mistress's back as she bent over. Turning his scalding face away quickly, he went back to scanning the foot traffic with his arms crossed over his chest.

"A good try. More practice. You can keep these." Came the Japanese woman's voice from behind him. Ed glanced over his shoulder to see Winry cradling something in her hand as she reached over to shake the woman's hand in gratitude. When she turned to him, she had the happiest look in her clear blue eyes it floored him for a moment. She approached him and displayed the two pieces of origami. Four folded 'petals' reached skyward and sat on a square lily pad. One was clearly the work of an expert: neat creases, equal proportions, well defined. The other had a bit of a lopsided petal or two, and a few of the corners of the lily pad weren't the exact same size. The creases weren't the best, either...

But Winry was smiling so widely with pride, he couldn't help but find it adorable.

"Isn't it great? I'll be sure to practice to make one as pretty as hers! Here, would you like one?" Winry asked shyly, holding the perfect one out to him.

Ed frowned, glancing at the one in her other hand. He didn't know what possessed him to ask... but he said, "Mind if I keep the other one?"

Winry seemed surprised, and looked at the imperfect one curiously. "This one?" She asked, glancing up at him confusedly.

Ed looked away and mumbled defensively, "So you can use the other one for a reference as you're practicing." He held his gloved hand out for it, finding the cobble beneath them highly interesting all of a sudden...

Confused but delighted by his request, Winry giggled and put the paper lily delicately in his palm. The world continued around them, shoppers and commuters filing past them without taking notice. The smiling girl and embarrassed young man went overlooked by the rest of society that flowed past them without pause. The development that had just taken place...went unseen. Unobserved. Missed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm feeling a bit nostalgic right about now. I went ahead and wrote the epilogue out for this story. This story shall have an end! Someday... I tend to do that; write scenes out ahead of time so I don't forget them. That way I can stay focused and put the scenes in later. <strong>

**But the epilogue had me emotional. It reminded me of where I plan to have this story end up... And it makes me sad! D: It's gonna end! It's so easy to forget in these early stages. (Yes, chapter 11 and I'm still in the early stages. I need to get this stupid thing moving) It's going to have an ending and I'm not going to get any more ideas for scenes anymore and I'm not going to post any more chapters and I'm not going to have anyone subscribing anymore and -! It makes me sad! I feel like it's already over, just because I wrote the end already... D:**

**So yes... I'm really, truly, horribly sorry about all this. It took **_**entirely**_** too long. But my muse – not just my muse for this, but my muse for **_**writing**_** in general – just up and vanished! I just kept drawing and reading, I completely put this off! It's truly unforgivable... And I'm terribly sorry. **

**If there are any of my old readers left... Thank you for coming back. And you have my sincerest apologies. I do not intend to let this story die.  
><strong>

**With much regret,**

**Rain**

**P.S. Please note, that around this time I believe that 1 pound is equivalent to around 4.85 US dollars, and 100 pence make up 1 pound. Rain's still doing her homework.**


	12. Ningit

_**Ningit – It snows**_

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><p>Winry was apparently far from done shopping. She found the things for her parents: a pair of sapphire earrings for her mother, and a new fedora and tie for her father. Ed was a bit jealous; the silk of that tie was ridiculous. He continued to follow her, at some point having to drop a bulk of the packages off inside the locked carriage before continuing on. The box of tools and parts Winry had purchased for herself was killing his back. It took Ed forever to convince Winry to take a damn break to eat. He certainly didn't need her fainting on him.<p>

As she nibbled on cheap fish-and-chips from a stand, Ed was watching her with a focused gaze. He recalled Rose's extensive instructions about Miss Winry. She shouldn't be allowed to exert herself. She must eat and drink regularly, because she often forgets. Apparently, the girl was blissfully unaware of her poor health. Or simply ignored it.

She also didn't pay attention to the world around her.

"'Scuse me, Miss!" shouted a Scot as they passed an alley, "Would ya like a flower? A pri'tty girl like you deh'serves sumfin as pri'tty as you!"

Ed didn't even allow Winry to turn around fully to look at the man who called her, only grasped her elbow and pulled her along. Winry gasped and looked at him reproachfully. "That wasn't very polite," she scolded with a frown, "He just wanted to be nice!"

Edward didn't even attempt to repress this eye roll. "Yes, because people are always _nice._ Honestly." He was grumbling and exasperated, and he had no idea why. Did this girl know _anything?_ At all? It was clearly suspicious, and her naiveté irked him.

Winry frowned in shock at his sarcasm, sputtering half-formed defenses. She could take care of herself!

Ed just turned his eyes heavenward and expelled a sigh. He shoved a canteen he'd brought from the manor at her, silently ordering her to drink.

Winry huffed, mumbling, "Bossy, bossy!" under her breath. But inside she was ecstatic. She felt like she was seeing the real Edward, the secret that he kept hidden. It excited and confused her, and left her wondering how many sides there were to her mysterious servant. She gulped the water and saw a shop she just _needed_ to go into.

There were only two people left on her list now. Paninya and...

"A clocksmith? Have you a friend who enjoys clocks?" Edward wondered sarcastically as he held the door for her.

Winry sent him a pout. "Paninya might!" She grumbled defensively. And it was true... The American girl would likely love one. She loved masculine things. Winry simply needed to find the right one...

As she browsed, she noticed Edward glancing into a glass case displaying particularly nice pocket watches. Inquisitively, she followed his gaze, finding him staring at a watch depicting what seemed to be a roaring lion bearing its claws... Though it had a ribbon-esque tail instead of hind legs... and a horn on its head. There were raised lines around the creature and a trim of a raised garland design on the bottom.

Curious about the creature depicted on the watch, she wandered over to where Edward stood. She peered at it curiously, still unable to identify it up close. "What is it?" she asked him while the examined the thing.

"A chimera." He answered immediately. He moved away to browse the other items, but Winry trailed after him.

"What's a chimera?" she asked with almost childish curiosity.

Edward eyed the pendulum of a grandfather clock as he answered, "A mythical animal with parts taken from various animals." He had read about them while bedridden.

Winry smiled, enthused by the idea. "How interesting." She said airily, and then left him to browse.

She eventually found a lovely watch for Paninya. It had a clear face and one could see all the gears moving beneath the glass as the hands ticked away. It was polished silver with yellow gold plates on a few of the gears. Winry wanted to take it apart and put it back together just looking at it... Maybe she would have enough time to do it and give it to her by Christmas...

But as she was calling the clerk over, she noticed Edward lingering by the glass case with that silver chimera watch displayed in it again... She turned her attention back to the clerk.

Ed noticed Winry was making her purchase, and gravitated towards her. He stood behind her, at a good distance like an escort should, and waited patiently. She seemed a bit distracted as she picked out a chain for Paninya's watch, like her thoughts were elsewhere. She was likely tired. They left, the little bell on the door tinkling as they opened it, and rejoined the foot traffic. Ed was anxious to get back to the manor and get away from all these darn people –

Winry stopped suddenly, causing Edward to nearly bump into her. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "I forgot to ask them to wrap this. Wait here please!" The girl abruptly wheeled around and darted back into the clocksmith's shop.

Blinking, Ed watched her disappear back into the store... and sighed. He leaned against the window by the door, one hand stuffed in his jacket pocket and the other full of bags full of Winry's purchases. He scanned the foot traffic lazily, ready to go home...

When had the Rockbell Manor become home exactly?

People passed by, not paying him much mind. Men hurried by with brief cases in their hands, their eyes glued to their watches. Others had women on their arms, and walked lackadaisically past the store windows. Horse-drawn carriages clacked and clip-clopped up and down the streets. Something white flitted past Edward's vision, but was gone by the time he looked.

The tinkling of the clocksmith's door drew his gaze to the left, his eyes falling on Winry immediately. What had taken her so long? He pushed himself away from the wall and looked at her questioningly.

She smiled at him, no longer tired-looking in the least. "Ready to head back?" She asked, her hands clasped behind her back.

Edward nodded his head once. "Do you have everything you need?" Her needs came first.

She nodded exuberantly. "Yep!"

A bit of white crossed their vision. It startled Winry, and she stared at the spot where she'd seen it. Another flitted passed, followed by Winry's eyes.

It had begun snowing.

Winry smiled widely at the white flakes fluttering down from the heavens. Her eyes held wonder as she stared up at the clouds, and after a moment, Edward tilted his head back as well. Little icy flakes trembled in the wind, tossed and thrown about by any negligible breeze. They fell in Winry's hair, and frosted her dark blue jacket and skirt with white specks.

Ed watched her smile up at the sky, cupping her mittens in the air as if trying to catch a few of the elusive snowflakes. Her eyes were filled with such childish wonder it was amazing that a human being could be so untainted. It nearly took his breath away.

Winry glanced at the boy, intending to share her joy in the snow, but found him looking shocked and dazed. He looked exactly like how she had found him on the stairs: lost and startled by something that confused him. She felt her heart thump in her chest as she smiled, finding the vulnerable look in his eyes strangely adorable.

All too quickly he blinked, and the look was gone. With unreadable eyes he took her gently by the elbow and steered her in the direction of the stables. "Come on, I can't have you catch anything on my first day." But there was a smile in his voice. And a tenderness under that veil over his eyes. Winry's breath caught in her throat.

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><p>The ride back to the Rockbell Manor seemed to take ages longer than the ride to Oxford Street had. Perhaps it was the fact that they had needed to load all of Miss Winry's purchases onto the top of the carriage and tether them there. Or perhaps it was just that both Edward and the horse were feeling a bit lazy, and didn't make too much of an effort to be quick.<p>

It continued to snow, and Ed found himself sneezing at the offending cold as they continued on. They reached the manor rather late, only barely in time for supper. With a sigh, Ed tossed the reins aside and dropped from the bench, grunting at the soreness of his muscles. Groaning in discomfort, he arched his back as he stretch an arm over his head, effectively cracking his spine. Expelling a sigh of relief, he opened Winry's door for her. "We've arrived back at the manor, Mi—"

Ed blinked, peering into the cab of the carriage. Winry was pressed against the far wall of the cab, her hands resting in her lap, and her head leaned into the cradle of the corner of the two walls. Her face was relaxed and her eyes were closed in slumber.

Apparently she'd been more fatigued than she'd let on.

Dumbfounded, Ed looked around, as if searching for help. Should he wake her? Well, of course he should! But how exactly did someone wake someone else? Properly? Someone usually woke him with the ringing of a bell, or he woke on his own at the crack of dawn.

Frowning, he stared at her. She looked so peaceful, almost angelic...

_You sound like a woman!_

Gritting his teeth, Ed tried to coax her into waking up from a distance. "Winry? Miss Winry? I need you to wake up. You haven't had supper yet. Winry?"

The girl barely twitched.

His mouth twisting into an irritated grimace, he tried a bit more harshly... "Winry! Wake up!" He called louder.

It did the trick. She jolted into awareness and blinked her bleary eyes at him. She focused on him for a second before nodding off again.

Ed was almost seething with frustration now. He had only become patient after many beatings, and damn it if he wasn't reverting to his old self. "My lady, I need you to wake up and get out of the carriage!" He hissed irately, barely keeping himself from yelling.

Winry groaned and let her head droop as she leaned forward, tottering on her feet as she tried to stand. "Fine.." she grumbled almost inaudibly. She took two sluggish steps before she fell, head first, out the door of the cab.

With a yelp of panic, Ed reached out and caught her against him. He sputtered in shock, looking around wildly. What the hell?! He needed help. Where was everyone?!

Winry grumbled in her sleeping state and clung to Ed, wrapping her arms around his middle and nuzzling her face into his chest. Red rose into his face as he cursed every god that may or may not be taking delight in this debacle. Why did this happen to _him?_ Where was Rick or Leo or Master Urey when he needed them?!

Winry mumbled again, dozing off against him. Cursing explicitly in his head, he realized he needed to get her out of the snow before she caught her death. Grinding his teeth together, he shifted until he managed to loop an arm underneath her knees, then lifted her bridal style easily. He glanced down at her sleeping face in surprise. She was so light.

The girl in his arms buried her face into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his shoulder, finding warm there and burrowing into it. Ed clenched his teeth, trying oh so hard to not let that affect him. But his heart rate was as quick as a hummingbird's wings at this point, and his face was pink and not from the cold. Keeping his eyes forcefully forward, Ed marched up the steps with the delicate girl in his arms. In his frustration with his current unfortunate situation, he kicked the front door thrice as a substitute for knocking.

It was Yoki who answered the door, looking unhappy (but when was he ever?) and irritable. The wiry footman took in the sight of Edward holding the master's daughter and nearly jumped three feet in the air. Yoki made an unattractive sound and screeched, "Elric! What in the blasted –"

And he was swiftly kicked in the shin.

This only outraged him more, and he nearly started shouting loud enough to wake the dead. But Edward gave him a furious glower and spat out the words, "Fetch. Rose."

The squinty eyed man seemed to shrivel at the anger pouring off the young butler, shocked into complete silence aside from some startled whimpers. Ed felt a twinge of pity that quickly faded as Winry stirred in his arms, pressing her cold nose to the heated flesh of his throat.

His breath catching in his chest, Ed hurried up the stairs with hasty steps, anxious to put distance between Winry and himself. This couldn't end well. He'd sworn he wouldn't let her get close to him. Even the slightest touch from her made his hormones rage, and that was _not_ something he needed. It was so many levels of wrong he didn't even want to think of it.

As it was, Ed likely set a record for getting from the front door to Miss Winry's bedroom. He hastily shifted to turn the doorknob, jostling Winry only slightly. As he stepped over the threshold she let out a sigh, as if sensing she was finally home. She squirmed in his hold, and he gratefully set her on the bed with a huff of relief. Winry stretched languidly and mewed in delight at being in the comfort of her bed. But she sleepily realized she still wore her boots and coat, as well as many other unnecessary clothing items. In a daze, she pulled her gloves off and tossed them into some corner somewhere.

Satisfied that he had successfully gotten Winry home in one piece, Ed turned away and went to get a fire started to warm the slightly chilly room. Rose would be up soon to relieve him and he could put some distance between Winry and his self. Which was definitely something he needed. His skin still tingled from where she'd touched him. He felt restless and kept getting the urge to glance at Winry as he attended to the hearth.

However, there was a thump behind him, and he did turn around. While what he saw would normally not bother him, it did indeed bother him this time. It bothered him a great deal. Winry had discarded her gloves and hat, and apparently the next gone was her coat. The thump he'd heard was her boots, which were tossed away along with the rest. But that wasn't what bothered him. What bothered him was that she was sleepily starting on undoing the laces on her dress as she sat on her bed.

"Ah! No, no, no!" Ed leapt from his spot with a horrified expression. He rushed over to her, drawing her hands away from the laces and holding her by her wrists. "P-Please wait for Rose, Winry!" He pleaded, his face beet red and sweat running down his face from his temple. _Dear god, why do you subject me to these situations?_

Winry raised her lidded, bleary eyes to him, uncomprehending. She parted her lips, about to say something, just as a polite tapping on the door preluded the creak of hinges...

Horrified, Ed turned slowly to find Rose, standing frozen at the door. The pink haired maid's face seemed frozen in a smile, and her eyes stared right at the two of them: Winry on the bed, in the middle of being undressed, with her eyes hooded and glazed while Edward stood over her, holding her wrists, and Winry's clothes and shoes strewn across the floor.

_...How to explain this one...?_

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><p><strong>AN: -ahem- This came out kind of short. Barely 3,000 words. Very sorry about that. It was just, I had the next scene written out and thought: "This is going to be entirely too long..." and so I just ended it at the AWKWARD MOMENT... Haha! So, thank you for reading! Feel free to review, subscribe, stone me, threaten my life, tell me how horrible I am, or just tell me what you had for dinner.  
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**I'm getting a little needy with the reviews here... So gimme... xD They literally keep me going! The reason this chapter is up today is because I got a review from an anonymous reviewer named Annie. Seriously. There are 300+ people clicking on this each new month. A few of them could totally leave a review. I won't mind. xD  
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**My lame begging aside, the next chapter will be done regardless of how many reviews I get. xD Don't you hate it when authors are all "I want 10 reviews before I update next!" ? That bugs me!  
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**-ahem- Anyways, thank you for reading! See you next chapter, if I haven't been stoned to death! :D  
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**Much love,  
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**Rain  
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